A part of him was pleased Amanda had been so easy to work with. If he was putting in the extra effort, maybe there was some way to get some payoff later on. She probably wasn’t romantically interested in him, but he’d observed that any male and female friend who spent enough time together would form some kind of attraction. If he wanted to, he just had to stick near her.

He wasn’t that interested in that. But could he make her do something, like hurting someone else, or stealing something? Could he remain the angel at home and at school while getting others to do what he wanted?

It was so easy, when so many others were unaware, barely thinking from moment to moment, and yet it was so hard to justify. So much work for so little gain. He wasn’t that kind of guy, who had a herd of others following him.

A card to keep up his sleeve.

“We might have a third person for our groups,” Amanda said.

He pushed his glasses up his nose as he turned to look. At the front of the room, someone was talking to the teacher. Going over the project notes.

Ryan recognized the boy. He noted the fresh, brand-spanking-new uniform.

Someone from his old school.

No. Not fair.

How was he supposed to handle this? Did he get out in front of the problem? Divert? Deny? Negotiate? What could the guy even want?

He watched out of the corner of his eye as the boy left the teacher’s desk, then began navigating the room. Round-faced, hair buzzed short to the point he was almost bald, ruddy cheeks, and a crisp school uniform better suited for someone of a lighter build.

Maybe emboldened, Amanda raised a hand, getting the boy’s attention.

Ryan’s hands went to his glasses, he realized the action might be interpreted as hiding behind his hands, and he made the adjustment brief.

He didn’t miss the moment he was recognized. The recognition, followed by wariness. The boy had probably heard the stories.

“I’m supposed to read some people’s work and sign it?”

“I still need someone else to read mine,” Amanda said. “I’m Manny.”

“Lloyd,” the boy said. Two thirds of his attention were on Ryan now. Amanda didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m Ryan,” Ryan said.

“You used to go to Hillside?”

“Yeah.”

The wariness intensified, if anything. But Lloyd didn’t say anything. As he looked over Amanda’s work, making small talk with Amanda, Ryan made a note on a slip of paper.

Ryan’s glasses found their way into his hands, under the guise of cleaning them. A way to keep himself still when he was agitated. To avoid any comment that might be foolhardy or rushed. To keep his hands busy. Training himself.

Five minutes passed before Lloyd finished. He shuffled over, until he sat opposite Ryan. His jaw was set now, his shoulders stiff.