But those explanations didn’t quite cover it. He acted as if he didn’t know who we were anymore.

And didn’t care.

CHAPTER 13

Jordan

THE TWO-MILE bike ride from home to school was going faster than ever. I was nervous; that was it, sure. It just so happened that everything I was doing lately was at a greater speed than at any previous time.

I knew I’d have to run laps once I arrived and make up for lost time, but I felt decent, other than the headache that still lingered a bit. I knew this was the concussion’s aftereffect, but I’d decided to power through it. I’d beaten up Troy and Luke with the injury still fresh, after all, so I could handle a practice where I got to wear the don’t-hit-me-I’m-a-quarterback green jersey.

And, hey, if anyone wanted to get revenge for what I did to those two guys—well, I felt ready for that, too. In my mind, I still didn’t know how to fight. I shouldn’t know how to fight. But I realized there was evidence to the contrary.

I was supposed to lead the team now. I hoped I wouldn’t have to fight everyone to get their respect. I dreaded the eyes that would be on me in the locker room, but that just made me pedal harder—the sooner to get it over with.

Up ahead of me, a squad of soldiers stood beside a few Humvees. One of the men waved for me to stop. They weren’t in the desert camouflage worn by the modern army but rather digital green-and-gray camo. The vehicles matched their uniforms.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I pulled over.

“Routine patrol,” said the soldier who had waved. I recognized the patch on his shoulder: three chevrons with a curve on the bottom. A staff sergeant.

“I’m just going to football practice,” I said.

“Do you have your school ID on you?”

I nodded and pulled it out of my shorts. It was worn from years of going in and out of my pocket, and the lettering was beginning to wear off. The picture hardly looked like me anymore, or anyone.

The staff sergeant swiped the card in his reader, and he looked at the screen.

“You’re the one who found that bear,” he said.

“Yeah, or it found me,” I said, vaguely pointing to the east. “It was thataways, behind the lumberyard.”

“Hey, Conners,” another soldier said. It took me a minute to recognize him with his helmet and sunglasses.

“Ears,” I said, remembering him from the camp. He was a radio operator, and his office was in the same building as the mess hall. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe a couple of years. He must have joined up on his eighteenth birthday or lied about his age. “What’re you doing here?”

Ears turned to the staff sergeant. “He’s okay. I know him.”

The sergeant handed my card back to me.

“We’re looking for a coyote,” Ears told me. “Have you seen anything? Paw prints in the mud, scat, newly dead animals?”