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Kenny doubled over, giggling.

“No, sir. Sorry,” I mumbled.

And then he looked to the guy sitting behind me.

“Paul Oliva. No freakin' idea.”

The class erupted, and I was forgotten…by everyone
except
Julie Murphy, judging by the way she kept looking at me.

I liked Mr. Williams, liked the class even though I was terrified of speaking in public, and liked Lisa and Paul. Morgan and Ashley, on the other hand, were nothing but airheads, an observation I shared with Paul twenty minutes after our speech class ended when we met in the locker room to change for gym. He let out a loud laugh at that.

“Hey, all we have to do is look at them. I can handle that much.” Paul whipped his shirt over his head, stuffed it in his locker. “Can you imagine how their speech project is gonna go? It won't matter what topic they pick. Every speech they make will sound like it aired on the CW.” He let his wrists dangle, fluttered his eyelids, and spoke with a falsetto. “Health care is, like, really important and stuff? So, we all have to, like, you know, really pull together and just, like, do it, for real, you know?” When he pretended to toss imaginary long hair over his shoulder, I clutched my sides, laughing so hard it hurt.

The bell rang.

“Shit. We're gonna be late.”

When Paul looked pointedly at the shirt I was still wearing, I paled. I wasn't taking off my shirt in front of anybody. “Meet you up there.” I angled my body into my locker, dropped my pants.

“Okay.”

Thank God. I watched him head down the row of lockers and turn the corner.

Dude, you know you can't get away with this for long, right?

Yes, Kenny, I'm aware. I let my head fall against a locker with a sigh. I tugged on my shorts, stuffed my jeans into the locker, finally pulled my shirt over my head, and heard a loud gasp.

I spun, smacking an elbow against my locker door, found Paul back in the main aisle, his face frozen in shock, blue eyes bulging.

“What the fu—”

“Forget it,” I warned, tugging my gym shirt over my head to hide the scars that crossed my torso like a relief map.

“What happened to you?”

“I said forget it.” I slammed my locker and left him there, mouth still gaping.

————

The day ended. Finally. Fortunately, it appeared I had no more classes with the temper-challenged Jeff Dean. I did, however, have two periods in common with Julie Murphy. Speech class and lunch. I even had one class with Brandon—calculus. I was pretty good at math, but Brandon ran circles around me. Math was my final period, so I reminded Brandon again I'd be happy to drive him home.

“Nice.” His face lit up when he saw my car, and I beamed.

“Yeah, thanks. It's new.” My parents surprised me with the blue Ford Edge on my eighteenth birthday in April. I was a year older than my classmates—yet another secret I was trying to keep hidden. I put the car in gear, headed west out of the parking lot.

He lifted a shoulder, huffed out half a laugh. “My mom said I could drive her minivan to school once a week. Stay on sixteen until you hit Blue Point Road, then turn left. My dad's got the cool car. Mustang.”

My eyebrows lifted as I stopped for a light. “Sweet. Does he let you drive it?”

“Only with him in it, so taking it to school is probably not gonna happen.”

I laughed. “Yeah, probably not.” I saw Blue Point Road and got into the left turn lane. “This it?”

“Yeah. Go right on Circle Court. My house is that beige one with the red shutters.”

I pulled to the curb, hit the button to unlock the doors, and waited while he collected his books.

“So, um, thanks for, you know, everything.”

“Yeah, no problem. See you tomorrow.”

I waited for Brandon to unlock his front door before I pulled a three-point turn. I had to wait for the school bus belching to a stop midway down the street. A glimpse of blond hair had my stomach flipping. Julie Murphy, hauling the biggest purse I'd ever seen over one shoulder, left the bus and headed up the walk of the house next to Brandon's, a mirror replica in gray. My nose twitched. I remembered how good she smelled. I tracked every motion, every toss of her hair, every move of those long legs. She must have felt my eyes on her because she suddenly turned and glared right at me before she disappeared inside.

Weird.

Probably
nothing
, I assured Kenny, wishing I believed it.

————

“There. How's that?”

“Um. Pretty good actually. It doesn't hurt as much anymore.”

And it didn't. When you're wounded, a mother's touch held magic. Before my sentence, I hated when my mother kissed me good night. Bandaged my knees. Ruffled my hair. I thought I was way too old, too cool. When I was in juvie, I missed all that mushy mom stuff, so now I allowed myself a moment to sink into it. I gingerly touched her handiwork—the fresh bandage over the swelling in my jaw.

My mother ruffled my hair, and I grinned, a stab of love piercing my heart. “Don't look so surprised, Dan. There are lots of things I'm good at, you know.”

Another stab of pain. Every time she called me by that name, it hurt. But we'd agreed.

I hissed in a breath and touched my chin. It really did feel better. Over my eighteen years, I'd given my mother plenty of opportunities to hone her first-aid skills while I learned to operate the huge body I'd developed. Walking with size fourteen feet while the rest of you was still puny wasn't as easy as it sounded. I often wondered why she still bothered after I ruined this family. I'd let her down, but she'd never turned her back on me. She'd fought like a demon to have me transferred to a safer detention center and petitioned the courts to reduce my sentence. I knew I didn't deserve her, but damn it, I was glad I had her.

“Danny. Look at me.”

Gray eyes, eyes I'd inherited, stared up at me. There were lines around them now. Lines I'd put there.

“I love you, always will.”

My eyes slid shut when Kenny's voice spoke louder.

No. She won't.

“What you did doesn't change that,” she said.

Yeah. It does.

“When you're hurt, I'll always take care of you.”

No, she won't. She can't. Because she doesn't know.

Her arms came around me and squeezed. Mom didn't know about Kenny. If she did, she'd be lobbying to get me a bed in a mental hospital. The court-appointed therapist I was forced to see once a week didn't know either.

Nobody knew. Nobody could ever know that I saw, heard, and talked to a version of myself, frozen forever at thirteen.

Yeah, but I know.

I don't know
why
or
how
Kenny came to be. I think he's always been there…part of me. But his first appearance
outside
of my head happened when I got jumped in juvie. I thought I was delirious. Until he pointed out my attackers' weaknesses and I got away, bloodied and concussed, but got away. I don't know why he saved me. He hates me. He gets perverse thrills from kicking me when I'm already down. He won't go away. He continues to torment me, and I've been out of juvie for years.

Torment
you? I'm a gift.

Yeah? Can I exchange you for something that fits?

Okay, I'm a blessing.

You're a fucking curse. A loud sigh leaked from my lips, and my mother pulled away.

“Tell me about the rest of your day. How did it go with the new name?”

“It was good.” The note of incredulity in my voice did not slip past my sharp mother unnoticed.

“You're surprised?”

“Yeah. It's…well, almost too good, I guess. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?”

Mom snapped the first-aid kit closed and stuffed it back inside its home in one of the kitchen cabinets.

She loved this room. When we moved here, the expression on her face when she saw the huge sunshine-yellow kitchen with the glass-front cabinets, U-shaped granite countertops, and six-burner stove was like a kid's in a candy store.

Or a kid's on his first day out of juvenile detention.

When she reached over to stir the vat of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove, I grabbed some plates and started setting the table on the far side of the long room, anticipating the meal ahead. Garlic, oregano, sausage, and meatballs. My stomach let out a rumble. Spaghetti in juvie was a gelatinous mass covered with something closer to ketchup than
gravy
, as my grandfather called it.

My mother tore off a hunk of Italian bread, dipped it into the pot, and handed it to me, holding her hand under it to catch the drips. I devoured it in a single bite, scorching my tongue and throat. I shut my eyes and moaned. God, that was good.

“After word got out about the fight, the kids mostly avoided me, nothing new there,” I said when I could talk. My mother was stirring the sauce again. “But there's this girl—”

The spoon clattered to the stove.

“A girl? What girl? Is she pretty?” Mom grinned and waggled her eyebrows, then leaned across a gleaming counter to hang on every one of my words. I laughed, even though my face got hot.

“No, Mom, it's nothing like that. She, um. Well, she's how this happened.” I indicated my bandage. “She saw everything but didn't do anything. She just
watched
.” The fury washed over me just remembering how she recited everything that had happened with complete indifference.

My mother just kept grinning. “Give her a chance. Maybe she's just shy.”

Yeah. Sure.

My mother was one of those irritating glass-half-full people. Always thought everything was going to work out for the best. I shook my head and put flatware beside the plates I'd arranged.

“Hey. You're short a place setting.”

I clenched my jaw, flinching at the pain it induced. “Mom, you know he won't—”

“Daniel.”

Murderer.

Shut up! I screamed silently.

“He'll come around. Just give it time.”

Time? I snorted out a laugh. “Mom, it's been years. Pop's not getting any younger and neither am I.” I turned away. I couldn't talk about this anymore.

“Danny, honey.” She put out a hand to stop me, but I shrugged it off. “Danny. Wait.”

I ignored her, stalked out of the kitchen, but Mom could be stubborn when she had to be. She chased me through the dining room we hardly ever used, into the family room, and out to the foyer, where abstract Pier One art hung in place of family photos. Those were all upstairs, where no one could see them and figure out we were a family of liars. I had one foot on the steps that led to the second floor when she shouted. “Damn it,
Kenny
. I said wait.”

I froze for a moment, one foot still raised. Then I whirled to stare at my mother, stunned. It was against the rules, my parents' rules. We'd agreed never to use my real name. I wasn't Kenny anymore. That name belonged to the voice in my head. And to my grandfather because I was named after him. Now I was Daniel Ellison, a name I chose because Daniel meant
God
is
my
judge
and Ellison came from the prayer,
Kyrie
Eleison
.

Lord, have mercy.

Kind of unrealistic, expecting anyone to show me mercy after what I did, but like I said, it was my parents' idea. After people found out who I was and what I had done…well, it was another reason why we had moved a bunch of times.

“I know your grandfather's hurting you, and I don't know why, I swear. He doesn't talk much to me either. But he lives here too, and he is always welcome at the dinner table, no matter who isn't talking to who.” She climbed two steps so she could look me in the eye, put her hands on my shoulders, and squeezed. “He'll come around. I promise you he will. Just keep the door open, okay?” Her hand moved to my cheek. “For me? Please.”

Sudden stinging behind my eyes compelled me to squeeze them shut. I nodded. How could I not do whatever she asked of me after all I'd done?

“Oh God. What's wrong? What happened?”

My father was home, his face a study in terror.

“It's fine. Everything's fine, hon.” Mom hurried to him, put a soothing hand to his chest. “Danny's had a so-so day.”

When she pointed to my bandaged chin, his eyes popped, so I walked back down the steps and returned to the kitchen to start the story from the beginning.

It's Official: My Life Sucks

The next day, the sun was hot enough to pull heat waves off the asphalt. I followed the road that snaked into the parking lot, trapped behind a lost parent confused by the drop-off procedure. I found a spot near the same grassy median where I face-planted yesterday, finally noticing the decent property this school had. Plenty of parking, places to walk without risking life and limb, air-conditioned classrooms. This school even had a pool. I thought about the high school I would have attended back home in New Jersey. That building dated back to the seventies. No air-conditioning. No pool. This place was so much better, and I was glad to—

Abruptly sick, I killed the engine, scanning the lot for trouble. It was a habit now, born during my stay at the Monmouth County Detention Center, and it had saved my neck more than once.

Kenny's loud sigh echoed in my head.
Dude. Nobody's looking to get the jump on you. You're safe.

I snorted out a laugh. Yeah, right. Safe.

Hey, I told you to stay out of that fight. Don't blame me if the whole new identity thing falls apart.

Yep. That you did. I acknowledged with a tight frown. How could a voice in my own head know so little about me? Better question, why did I care what a voice in my head thought? All I knew was that I couldn't live with any more guilt. It was like I swallowed a slow-moving poison that was killing me a cell at a time. You'd think the voice that knew what I was thinking would know that or something.

Boohoo.

Why are you here, Kenny? I'm not in juvie anymore. I don't need you.

I lumbered out of the car and aimed the key chain remote to lock it.

He was suddenly standing right there, blocking my way.

Yeah, you do.
He jerked his chin over my shoulder.

I followed his gaze, saw Julie talking to Jeff a few rows down beside the same tricked-out black pickup truck. My teeth clenched. What the hell did she see in this guy? Okay, so he was popular and on the football team. And he was good looking, if the way all the girls' eyes tracked his every move was any indication.

Heh. Like lookin' in a mirror.

I do not look like that.

Whatever
you
say, man.

Julie was mad; I saw the crease in her forehead from here. She put a hand on Jeff's chest, said something I couldn't hear, and my hands clenched. She shook her head and turned to walk away, but Jeff grabbed her arm, swung her back around with a loud “Hey! I'm not done!”

I sprinted toward them before Julie's hair resettled.

Bad
idea, dude!
Kenny shouted in my head, but I tuned him out.

“Let go of me.” She twisted out of his grasp, gave him a little shove that did nothing but enrage Jeff more.

“Shut your mouth and listen to me.” He grabbed her again.

“Get your hands off me!”

I was already there, prying him off Julie and pinning him to the hood of the black truck. He broke my hold, spun to face me, but my other hand was already fisted. I cocked it back, made sure he saw it. “She said take your hands off her.”

“New guy.” Jeff pushed the words through teeth clenched tight enough to leave impressions in metal. “You hot for me or something? Every time I turn around, you're in my face.”

I scoffed, ignored his feeble attempt to rile me. “Maybe that's because your face is always where it shouldn't be.”

He shook my hand off. “My face? You're the one stickin' his nose into my business. Back off or—”

“Or what? Huh, Dean? What do you think you're gonna do?” I smiled the kind of cold grin I'd perfected in detention, the kind of smile that confused my opponents, and God knew I had a lot of them over the years.

“I said I was sorry, Jeff,” Julie said. “Please. Just let it go.”

He glanced from her to me, his body still angled toward mine. With one last glare at Julie, he stood down, stepped away, and flung up his hands. “Okay, fine. I'll stay out of it if you do me a favor. Don't get between me and Brandon anymore. And you,” he said and punched a finger at me. “You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I wasn't intimidated.
Intimidating
was six kids in men's bodies glaring at you in the common area of a juvenile hall while the guards' backs were turned. I wasn't afraid.
Afraid
was six kids in men's bodies coming for you in the dark. Jeff was about as tough as a loaf of white bread. He stalked off, shooting glares over his shoulder every few feet. I held my stance until he was out of sight.

“You okay?” I asked Julie, who stared at me with a mixture of fear and surprise etched on her face.

“Perfect,” she said with a big fake grin after she stared for a whole minute. She readjusted the huge bag on her shoulder and took a step toward the school building. “I had it, you know. You didn't need to—”

“Butt in?” I snapped, my voice tight.

Her eyes darted to mine, hurt, then shifted away. She had on different glasses today, and these frames really called attention to her eyes.

Oh, hell.

I walked away, then walked back. “Look, I'm sorry.” A quick glance at her face told me she was confused. Confused was better than hurt. I could work with confused. “I just don't get what you see in that guy.”

You
and
me
both, man.

“Wait.” She put her hand on my arm, and my arm twitched. “You think…me and Jeff…oh God, no!”

“You're not seeing him? You're not his girlfriend?” My stomach tightened at the thought. Or maybe that was just Kenny.

She wrinkled her face. “No. What made you think that?”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe I got it from you watching him while he got ready to tear the limbs off Brandon? Yeah. That had to be it.” I took off walking again.

Back
the
hell
off, man.
Kenny warned me with a light love tap to my head that made me stumble a step.

Julie caught up to me. “We dated for like a month back in freshman year. Now he's with my friend, Colleen. He drives me to school once in a while because he lives around the block. So, uh, where the hell did you come from? When Jeff stopped me, I looked around for help and didn't see a soul.”

That stopped me in mid-stride. I whirled to confront her. “Let me get this straight. Jeff goes after Brandon and that was just fine. But when Jeff comes after you, you expect someone to help you? Have I got this right?”

She met my gaze, her face carefully arranged to look neutral, but I caught the muscle twitching in her jaw. “Look, you're new here. You don't know the whole story with Jeff and Brandon, okay?”

“What, and you do?”

“Yes. And unlike you, I don't think Jeff is entirely wrong here. Also unlike you, I mind my own business. Except for yesterday.”

“I'll remember that next time I see him hassling you,” I snapped and strode off, but she was right behind me.

“Hey, wait!” Her tug on my arm barely penetrated my anger. “I appreciate what you did. But you don't know Jeff. I do. He's got some problems. He'll deal with them. I know how to handle him, so just stay out of this, okay?”

I stared at her for a good thirty seconds, processing her words. Was Jeff really that bad? Whatever. I wiped sweaty hands down my jeans. Crap, I left my phone in my car. I started walking in the opposite direction, Julie on my heels.

“Nice.” She jerked her head toward my car, looking up at me from under her eyelashes. I spent a thought-scattering minute wondering if that was how she looked when she was kissed. “I'm curious. What was it doing in front of my house yesterday? Did you follow me home or something?”

I jerked, slammed my head on the doorframe as I reached in for my phone. I hoped she didn't notice my knees buckle. “I'm not a stalker, Julie. I didn't follow you. All I did was take Brandon Dellerman home. I don't hurt women, so you don't have to be afraid of me.”

“Jeez, obsess much?” Her mocking grin widened. “I was just asking.”

“I gotta go.” I locked the car again.

“So, go,” she mouthed with exaggerated slowness. With a flip of her hair, she walked away, and when I closed my eyes, I swore I was on the beach.

Hmm. Weird. I thought she was his girlfriend.

Yeah, it
was
weird. Maybe they're not over each other. No. Don't even go there.

Why
not, man? She likes us.

Kenny. Give it a rest. I don't like
her
.

Really?

I stared at him, my jaw hanging. You—
you
like her, don't you? That explained a lot.

Kenny wouldn't look at me and kept walking. I hurried to catch up and pressed him again. Come on, admit it. You like her.

He turned on me as we walked through the main doors.
I'm not telling you anything. You'll just use it to hurt me. You always do.

I…I don't. I don't hurt you. I just want you to leave me alone.

You
don't get it, genius. I can't.

Oh, I get it, Kenny. Nine months in juvie wasn't enough. Getting carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey wasn't enough. Watching Mom and Dad ostracized and harassed wasn't enough.

Too upset to think straight, I continued out loud. “You're here to haunt me for the rest of my fucking life. I get it. Believe me, I get it, so just answer the damn question already. People are staring. Do you like her or not?” A chubby girl shut her locker and looked at me funny. I held up my cell phone and touched an ear hidden by too-long hair, hoping she'd believe I had a Bluetooth.

I did not.

The terms of my reduced sentence stipulated my cell phone had no online access. No texting. No web surfing. No pictures. I'm pretty sure I was the only guy in America who used his cell phone only to make calls.

The bell rang, and Kenny ran to his corner, slammed the door without answering me. I could hear him, muttering, shuffling around. I pounded on the door, demanding a response, but he was silent.

Looks like Julie was going to be a problem.

A big one.

————

First period. I was nearly late. I had to stop at my locker and regroup after my encounter with Julie. What the hell was between her and Jeff? She seemed like an okay girl when she wasn't intentionally pissing me off. What was she doing with him?

Dude, you heard her. They're not dating.

Yeah, I'd heard her. So if they weren't dating, what was that argument about? I dropped my backpack and slid behind my desk, trying to ignore the biting pain in my chin that was somehow worse today than yesterday. Jeff was already in his seat near the window, and Julie was already in the seat beside mine. I cursed under my breath when the desk shifted a few inches, the screech making me clench my jaw, ratcheting the pain up to maximum. Julie's head swiveled to me, the line between her eyebrows flashing once while I cradled my head, watching her from under my lashes.

Her black plastic glasses caught my eye again. As my gaze traveled over her curves, I realized the glasses matched her outfit—tight black pants ending high on her calves, with a skimpy white T-shirt that revealed glimpses of a smooth belly if she moved in just the right way. My mouth fell open. Black-and-white sandals showed off a toe ring. She looked up at me from under a curtain of gold hair, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

Busted.

Kenny laughed when my face got hot.

“That looks a lot worse than it did yesterday.”

I glared. “Feels worse too.”

She made a face. “Aw. Poor little you.”

It sounded like she was making fun of me. I swore if she told me to keep my chin up again, I would have to extend a finger.

Kenny choked.
Oh, please. Like Saint Daniel even has a middle finger.

Okay, maybe I wouldn't, but I would really want to. Kenny was about to retort, but luckily, the teacher walked in at that moment.

“Okay, people, settle down. Settle down.” Mr. Williams hurried to the head of the class. “Starting here, everybody count off one to four and then repeat. Go.”

He tapped the guy sitting to my right, who dutifully said “One.”

By the time the count went up one aisle and down the next, I was a three.

“Okay, grab your gear and stand up. I want the ones over here by the door, twos here in this row, threes in the back of the room, and fours by the window. Move.”

Desks screeched on linoleum. Laughing and chattering, we mixed. I noted with a mix of interest and annoyance that Julie was also a three.

We settled in the back of the room and watched, amused, as Paul Oliva and Lisa McKenna traded their spots with the two girls in our group and made their way to us. The girls joined the other half of their clique at the window and squealed. At the same time.