I nod back. “Cool.”

We lie on the grass and watch the clouds roll by the rest of the period. He is very popular. Everyone who walks by says hi. He waves. Shakes hands. Bumps fists. Whatever the situation calls for.

The bell rings. We get up and brush ourselves off before heading to our next class.

He doesn’t introduce me to anyone as we walk inside the building and through the halls, even though everyone is curious. They glance at me, then eye him. Mostly the girls. He ignores them. Changes the subject. Insults them in some humorous way.

There are only two classes after lunch because we have the B lunch period. The late one. We are in history, and I want to tell the teacher that he is pronouncing King Christian X wrong, but I don’t. Again, I’ve been spared having to speak in class because I’m new. I decide to savor that.

When the last bell rings, Amador and I clutch hands and lean our shoulders into a half hug before heading in opposite directions.

“Hey,” he calls to me.

I turn back.

“Do you remember my name?”

I smile for the first time all day. “Amador.”

He laughs. “Amador Sanchez, Mr. Reyes Alexander Farrow. How’s your sister?”

“She’s good. See you tomorrow?”

“Not if I see you first,” he teases.

I watch him leave, astounded. I’ve never had a friend. Not a real one. I check my watch and realize I’m late.

When I pick up Kim, she is a mass of jiggling nerves. She’s scared, but school is what she needs. She needs to socialize. To make friends. To be a kid.

She doesn’t want to go back the next day. I can’t wait. The school counselor is waiting for my school records to be transferred. I figure I can hold her off on that for a few weeks. Shit gets lost in the mail all the time, so I hear.

In the meantime, she is going to test me. I’ve never had a test. Not a real one. But I learn to love them. Except when Mr. Stone, my science teacher, decides to give me an assessment to test where I am in the curriculum. I ace it. I ace every test. Probably why I love them so much. But he accuses me of cheating. Marches me to the principal’s office. Says no way could I have aced that test; some of the concepts aren’t introduced until college graduate courses. He wants me expelled.

I can hear them talking through the wall. The principal tells him the counselor also tested me, and my scores were off the charts. I sit smugly, not realizing what that might mean for me.

I find out two months later when men from the government show up to do some tests of their own. I fake the flu. It’s not hard. My temperature naturally runs a little hot most of the time. I sprint all the way to Kim’s school, check her out, and hurry home.

So, my stint in high school lasts only three months, but I convince Kim she can keep going. Then we move again, and it’s too far for Kim and me to walk. She’s scared to death of buses. I want to ask her why, but I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready.

There is a middle school not far from our new apartment. We get her registered, and I walk her there every day. It’s the same at first: She is scared. Doesn’t want to go. Doesn’t want to start all over. But after a while she is fine and looks forward to school. It becomes an escape for her. One she desperately needs.

Amador and I keep in touch. He skips school and visits about twice a week. We go to the skate park or the mall or hustle cash for lunch. When he’s not around, I will go find a quiet place and enter Dutch’s world. One day, she is sitting by herself outside, reading. A soft breeze is pushing strands of her hair into her eyes. They get stuck in her lip gloss. What’s left of it. She keeps pulling her lower lip between her teeth.

She tucks the hair behind an ear only to have it work loose about five seconds later, but she is so engrossed in her book, she hardly notices.

At first, I’m mesmerized by her. By her hair and her fingers and her legs. And by the fact that she reads without moving her lips. She is wearing a plaid skirt, a button-down, and Mary Janes. Classic Catholic schoolgirl apparel. I stay out of her line of sight but get close enough to see what she is reading. Whatever it is has her dripping wet. Her abdomen tightens. Floods with heat that rivals the fires of hell. Throbs with longing. And I have a hard time concentrating on anything other than the fact that her knees are parted and her breaths are coming in quick, short bursts.

I finally make out the title—Sweet, Savage Love—and make a mental note to get my hands on that book.

If I could, I’d materialize right then and there and see to her needs. Make her writhe. Make her explode. Since she’s terrified of me, I decide against it and leave her to her own devices.

I have to see to my own needs when I get back before picking up Kim from school.

This is a golden time for us. Earl doesn’t bother me so often. He goes through spells, and as long as I can survive them, as long as I’m breathing at the end, I endure for Kim’s sake. Every once in a while, his dark side rears its ugly-ass head, and I get more than I bargained for. He is more violent now. The drinking and drugs are slowly eating away what few brain cells he had, and his moods turn on a dime. There are a few days that I look so bad, I can’t even walk Kim to school or meet up with Amador. But not many.

One day after school, Kim is shaking. Amador is with us, but he doesn’t notice the state she’s in. He gives her a hug and jogs off to catch a bus back to the war zone. When he’s gone, I ask Kim what happened.

“I had to go to the office today.”

I’m instantly alarmed. The blue under her eyes is darker. The white of her skin paler. I put my hands on her shoulders and force her to face me. “What happened?”

“Nothing. They just called me to the office.”

“Why?”

She lifts a shoulder. “It was the counselor. She was nice, but she asked a lot of questions.”

Dread creeps up my spine. It feels like when ice is so cold, it burns. “What did she want to know exactly?”

“She—” Tears flood between her lashes. “She asked me if I felt safe at home. If I get enough to eat. Stuff like that.”

I turn away from her and curse under my breath.

“I told her I was fine. Everything was okay.”

If they take her away, I won’t be able to protect her anymore. Some foster homes and children’s homes are no better than what we already have. At least with Earl, I can keep an eye on her. And he doesn’t touch her. His tastes don’t lean in that direction.

Before I came along, he was all about boys. He would go through a boy every two years, and then he’d sell the kid to one of his friends. But he kept me. He never tired of me, even when I got older than his usual demographic. Even when I got much older.

So I know that as long as we are with Earl, she’ll be safe from that type of attention. If the authorities suspect anything, they could investigate. They could take her away from Earl. From me. They could put her in a much worse situation.

I grab her arm and we hurry away from the school. I can’t help but look over my shoulder.

“That’s not all,” she says as I drag her behind me. She is out of breath, and I slow down a little.

“What do you mean?”

“She asked about you, too. And then the principal came in and they asked— They asked if you’re safe.”