Page 26 of The Intruder

“Ella,” she says, “you’re going to be with Brittany.”

I sigh with relief. I’m happy about this. Being partnered up with the most popular girl in the grade is a good thing, especially since Brittany always gets top grades. She gets an A in every class. Probably because she can actually study since she doesn’t have garbage taking up all the space on her desk at home, and also, she doesn’t spend her evenings locked in a closet. Funny how that makes homework kind of tough.

But Brittany does not look happy about this turn of events. She crinkles up her pert little nose, like she got paired with one of the worms climbing through the peaches that are still in our closet, and then her hand shoots up in the air.

“Mrs. Bush,” she says. “Crystal and I need to work together because we carpool after school.”

That is such a bullshit excuse. It’s so obvious. If it were anyone else in the class who said that, Mrs. Bush would have for sure said no way. But all the teachers love Brittany, so Mrs. Bush looks down at the paper in her hand with all the assignments and gets out her red pen. “All right then. Ella, you can be with the student I had assigned to Crystal. That’s Anton.”

Being paired with Anton Peterson is, like, orders of magnitude worse than being with Brittany. First, he hates me and calls me Smella. Second, he is the worst student in the class and won’t do any of the work on this assignment. And when I look at him at the other end of the room, he doesn’t look any happier than I do. Like Brittany, his hand shoots up in the air. But unlike Brittany, he doesn’t wait for Mrs. Bush to call on him.

“Mrs. Bush,” he says. “I can’t be partners with her either.”

Our teacher peers at him over the upper rim of her reading glasses. “Why not?”

Anton’s brown eyes are wide and sincere as he answers, “Because I can smell her from here, and it makes me want to throw up.”

A few people giggle at that, but it doesn’t make Mrs. Bush change her mind. Even though I really wish she would, because we clearly don’t want to work together.

As soon as the bell rings for class to end, I walk over to Anton’s desk. He is slowly packing up his stuff, like he has all the time in the world to get to his next class, but really he just doesn’t care about being late. The green he sprayed in his hair looks brighter today, like he sprayed on another layer. I can’t even remember his real hair color.

“Hey,” I say. “When do you want to meet to work on this project?”

Anton throws his binder into his backpack. There’s a hole at the bottom right corner, and the lower edge of his binder juts through. “How about never?”

I grit my teeth. “I don’t want to fail this class because you’re lazy.”

“Fine. Then do the stupid rock project by yourself.”

I start to protest, but Anton has already thrown his backpack over his shoulder, and he’s walking out of the classroom. I guess I’m working alone, which is better than spending time with stupid Anton. Good thing I’m used to it.

20

It’s a mile walk home.

I used to have a bike, but the chain broke, and we never ended up replacing it. I asked my mom for another one, but she kept saying that one was perfectly good. Like our washer and dryer and every other broken appliance, it’s still in our basement, waiting to get fixed. I’m hoping one day she will start dating a guy who is good at fixing things, and then I’ll be able to get my bike working again.

Anyway, in the meantime, I walk.

At least all the streets are paved, and I take a shortcut through this park that’s usually pretty empty, so that makes it take a little less time. I don’t mind the walk, actually, and I like the fresh air. The more I walk, the less it bothers me that Anton told the whole class that I smell. Especially now that the winter is over, the spring weather is kind of perfect. I’d rather be out here in the park than in our house, which reeks of cigarettes. And rotting peaches.

Also, the park is really pretty in the spring. Everything is blooming. I got a book from the school library and learned the names of a bunch of the flowers, which was pretty cool, but I’m not allowed to take out books from the library anymore. Apparently, I lost too many of them, which wasn’t my fault. I swear, I leave my books in a safe place, but when my mom dumps a bunch of stuff in my room, things get lost.

I’m just about at the other end of the park when I hear a strange noise coming from a thick clump of bushes and trees where kids sometimes hang out to smoke. It almost sounds like somebody grunting, like scuffling feet. I’m in no rush to get home, so I wander over to investigate.

I thought maybe it was a couple of teenagers having sex or something, but it’s not that at all. It’s the opposite. It’s two kids, and one is totally beating the crap out of the other one.

They are too distracted to notice me, so I get a little closer. I recognize both the kids, because they’re from my school. One of the kids is this guy named Devin, who is the one who currently has the upper hand—he is the one administering the beatdown. And the kid lying in the dirt, the one getting his ass completely handed to him?

It’s Anton.

I can’t say it’s not satisfying to see Anton getting his butt kicked. After all the things Anton has said about me—the way he has tormented me—it’s good to see him with a lip split open and blood pouring out of his nose. I don’t know what he did to piss off Devin, who is much more popular and well-liked than he is, but it looks like he’s paying the price. I can’t help but smile to myself when Devin kicks him in the gut and he doubles over. It’s nice to see someone else suffer for once.

Take that, you asshole.

But then something shocking happens. Devin reaches into the pocket of his baggy jeans and pulls out a Swiss Army knife. A freaking knife. He opens up the blade, and even though one of Anton’s eyes is already swelling closed, the other one gets really wide. Even more when Devin takes a step toward him.

What the hell? What is Devin going to do with that knife?