“How about these, funny guy.” I hold up my titanium fists and take a swing, but he manages to get his big paws around my wrists, turn me around in his arms so that mine cross in front of me. My back presses into his chest and I feel the vibration of his laughter. I wiggle and squirm. He takes several deep breaths and his laughter dies away. Other than that almost kiss, this is the closest we’ve been. If I turned around in his arms, I would be in the perfect position to kiss him. Before I can decide, he lets go and my hands fall to my sides. He steps back, but at least he’s still smiling.

I catch my breath and watch the stream of students heading into school. No one says anything to us. They don’t have to. Their looks say everything.

Cade’s arm presses into mine. He whispers, “Ignore them.” The first bell rings. He motions toward the door. “Ready?”

“Nope. Changed my mind.”

“You want to skip?” He sounds so hopeful.

“Yes, but then they win.”

He holds out his hand, palm up in invitation. “If we’re doing this, let’s do it together.”

* * *

If only people were staring because we’re holding hands. They whisper about the article, the assignment—crude and cruel murmurs and giggles—some juvenile name-calling like I saw on social media. I will myself to keep my eyes forward and follow Cade’s stoic lead, but it’s hard. Hoping it will help, I begin chanting to myself, I’m granite. I’m steel. I’m titanium, faster and faster until Cade stops walking. We stand in the middle of the hallway between our lockers. He steps in front of me, puts his hands on my shoulders. “Okay?” he whispers.

“Okay,” I whisper back.

“We got this,” he says. We split up to put away our coats and gather our books for the morning.

I enter my lock combination, open my locker, and…

OH MY GOD.

I recoil, and even though there’s a lot of background noise, I swear I hear Cade gasp. I turn. For several seconds, our eyes meet. His are wide and dark and not Cade’s. These are filled with shock, anger. People streaming by temporarily block my view, but I shift right and push up on my tiptoes. Cade grips his locker door and holds it open. Like mine, every inch is plastered with pictures and sticky notes filled with blood-red swastikas and hateful words.

A camera flash goes off. The hallway buzzes and crawls, closing me in. I face my locker. There’s a small bag of dry dog food sitting on the bottom shelf and a note saying, “No dogs and Jew lovers allowed in the cafeteria.”