Confusion passed over Luke’s face. Doubt. “What do you want?”

Jack felt very separate from himself. Far away. As if he were observing himself talking to Luke from a distance. He looked at Luke’s hands. “You need good hands in football, don’t you? Quarterback’s gotta have good hands. To throw the ball.”

“What?”

Jack just stood there, watching him.

Blood dripped down Luke’s arm and spattered on the floor in droplets. He licked his upper lip. “Is that some kind of threat?”

Jack just waited.

Luke looked down the hall in both directions, as though there might be some friend there. No one moved. Quite a crowd now. No more talking. No laughter.

Quiet. Somewhere a locker creaked open.

Luke gave a little shrug. His mouth labored to find words. “Whatever. Asshole. You’re not worth the time.” He glanced at the girl. “Neither is she.”

He studied Jack a moment longer. Then he stepped backward and turned and pushed between kids and blundered out the door.

A murmur rose from the crowd. Faces from the past. Kids who had once been his friends. Years ago. Jack could hear bits of conversation.

“Damn. Did you see Luke?”

“She stabbed a pencil—”

“That’s Jack Dahl. His dad’s the one who—”

Jack gazed steadily at the students he saw talking. Their voices died at the sight of him, until there was no sound anywhere. He stared at them. Each one. Their faces. What would it be like? To be like that? So normal? He watched them until, one by one, they glanced away. He knew who they were thinking of. You are just like him, he thought. Backed into a corner, you are just like him.

A bell rang, and the crowd stirred to life.

Noise now. Spectators, moving on.

He looked at the girl. Her head was down, and her dark hair hid her face. He crouched and gathered the loose pages and picked up one of her books. The cover showed a hot-air balloon, with faded letters across the top. Calculus, Fifth Edition. He straightened and held out the pages to her.

“Are you okay?”

She lifted her head and met his gaze: He saw her clearly for the first time. Apple cheeks and naked skin. Eyes an aching hazel. Her voice rasped from her.

“Stay away from me.”

He stepped back.

She snatched the pages from him. He saw a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. It was a heart. Black as onyx. A small, black heart.

She turned on her heels. Her back very straight, her hair a riot of kinks and twists. She headed down the hall to the girls’ bathroom in long strides and disappeared inside.

Jack stood there stupidly, holding her book in his hand. The hall empty now. Then he opened the cover. Her name was printed in black letters at the top, with her phone number written beneath it.

AVA.