The Price of Silence

A Journey from Fear to Courage

By Staci Stallings

Chapter 1

With every step she took across the hard, gray concrete, Robyn Lockhart wondered again why her mother insisted on being so unreasonable. Getting divorced was one thing, but moving half a continent away in the middle of junior year was down right cruel.

Robyn hugged her three new notebooks to her chest as she climbed the steps to James Madison High School. How could she expect to catch up with only three months of school left? This was truly the most selfish thing her mother had ever done, and that was saying a lot. She yanked the door to the school open and was met by a gust of stale, dank air.

Ugh. She hated this place already. With reluctant steps she forced her feet to carry her down the dim hallway. "Right now Jill and Lisa are meeting at the lockers to talk about the weekend."

In her mind Robyn could see them standing at the lockers right now, and she wondered what new stories Lisa had to tell today. She was always coming up with something to keep them laughing and shaking their heads at the same time. But now, thanks to her mother, Robyn was here 600 miles away from the wild stories, walking into a principal's office, and wishing only that she could vanish into thin air.

"May I help you?" the prim receptionist asked from behind the counter.

"I need to see Mr. Findley," Robyn said softly, willing her voice to stay steady. "He's the principal."

"I know who Mr. Findley is, Dear," the lady said not altogether kindly, and Robyn clutched her books tighter. "May I ask what this visit is in reference to?"

"Oh, I'm Robyn Lockhart, I just transferred from Iowa."

"One moment, Miss Lockhart," the lady said and disappeared through a door at the back of the office.

Somehow Robyn felt as though she were outside of herself looking in as her gaze traced the lines across the back wall of the office. She was here, but she really wasn't. It was someone else standing here, asking for the principal, she was 600 miles away living her real life.

"Right, Mr. Hudson, I totally believe you," a very tall, very authoritative-looking man said as he pushed a dark-headed vagrant by the collar into the office.

"I'm telling you, Mr. Tucker, I had nothing to do with it," the vagrant said, twisting and trying to look up at Mr. Tucker, but it wasn't working.

"Tell it to Findley," Mr. Tucker said, depositing his prize into one of the waiting room chairs.

"Why, Mr. Tucker," the receptionist said, resuming her position behind the counter, "I didn't think we would see you until at least 10 o'clock."

"What can I say, Mary Ann?" Mr. Tucker threw his hands up. "It's spring."

The receptionist breathed a tired sigh and nodded.

"Mr. Tucker, I'd like you to meet our newest student. This is Miss Robyn Lockhart," Mary Ann said, more kindly than she had said anything else up to that moment. "She's going to be in your English class."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Robyn," Mr. Tucker said, extending his hand. She shook it quickly and just as quickly let it go. "It'll be nice to have some new points of view in class, won't it, Hudson?"

The dark-headed criminal just grunted, and Mary Ann shook her head in annoyance.

"I take it that Mr. Hudson is not here about his placement onto the honor society," Mary Ann said, handing Mr. Tucker a form.

"In his dreams," Mr. Tucker said, hurriedly filling out the form.

Mary Ann surveyed Robyn. "Miss Lockhart, why don't you have a seat? Mr. Findley will be with you shortly."

Robyn looked around, and suddenly the office seemed very, very small. Reluctantly she pushed her feet over to the remaining chairs and took the one with the most seats between her and the criminal. It really shouldn't surprise her, she thought. It was, after all, what she had expected when she'd been told she'd be transferred to a school with five times more people in one class than had attended her entire school, and yet nothing had really prepared her for outright criminals to be attending classes with her.

Tentatively she looked through her eyelashes at the criminal, but the moment her gaze met his face, her heart tripped over itself. He didn't look like any criminal she had ever seen before-he was gorgeous. He had abandoned the slumped over look in favor of the leaning back looking at the ceiling look, and from her vantage point, he looked like he could be a model in a GQ magazine. The straight nose, the slightly long, black hair brushed back from his high cheekbones. He looked like a god-a god in a black leather jacket.

"Mr. Findley will see you now, Miss Lockhart," Mary Ann said, breaking into Robyn's racing thoughts.

"Oh, okay." Vaguely she pushed her legs under her, took a deep breath, and forced herself to walk by the unmoving figure in the chair. 'He's trouble,' her mind repeated as she measured her steps into the principal's office. 'He's trouble. I'm telling you, don't even go there.'

Five hours later Robyn yanked the schedule out of her pocket again and scanned it as the crush of bodies around her bounced her from side to side. English, Mr. Tucker, Building B, Room 417.

English was good. Mr. Tucker was good. Mr. Hudson, however, worried her. Maybe Mr. Tucker was kidding with the crack about new points of view in class. Surely, she wouldn't be in a class with troublemakers. She had, after all been at the top of her class at Lakota. But Lakota and James Madison were two very different places-that much was supremely obvious.

Making herself as small as she could, she squeezed her way up the stairs and found herself in a near empty hallway at the top the second the bell rang.

"Well, I've been late for every other class. Why spoil a perfect record?" she said to the emptiness around her.

With a tired sigh, she trudged down the hall and finally found 417. She put her hand on the doorknob and then stopped. What if he was on the other side of that door? Her face went hot at the thought. What difference did it make? she scolded herself. It was obvious during their brief encounter that his scope of caring did not encompass many things and she was quite sure, that certainly included her.

"Miss Lockhart," Mr. Tucker said suddenly opening the door for her. "Glad you found us."

"Oh, hi," she stammered, glancing up only briefly before she returned her gaze to the squares on the floor. "Sorry I'm late."

"No problem, just don't make a habit of it. Please, come on in and join us."

He pushed the door open for her to enter, which she did on lead feet. She could feel every gaze in the room on her so she kept her own glued to the floor.

"Why don't you take a seat over there? We were just discussing 'A Worn Path' page 424." Mr. Tucker handed her a book, and Robyn took it, breathing only a small sigh of relief that at least she had already read the piece they would be discussing.

"Now, Kathryn, I believe you had the floor," Mr. Tucker said, turning back to the class as Robyn buried her head into the pages of the well-used textbook.

"Well, I was surprise by how courageous Phoenix was-I mean even though she was old, she didn't back down, even when the guy held a gun on her," a young girl with the most beautiful, long, sand-colored hair Robyn had ever seen said. Kathryn was sitting directly across from Robyn in the front row, and it was obvious by her placement in the room, and the intent look on Mr. Tucker's face, that she was no flake.

"And why, do you think she had that courage, Mr. Mayes?" Mr. Tucker asked.

"I don't know," the young man with a nice face and curly black hair directly behind Kathryn said.

"Come on, Chad. This isn't brain surgery," Mr. Tucker said, goading.

"Well, it's kind of trite," Chad said slowly, "but I think it means she did it for love."

Mr. Tucker cocked his head to one side. "Why is that trite?"

"It's a little over done, don't you think?" Chad asked, stretching his long legs into the aisle. "I'm in love, therefore, I will brave the lions and tigers and bears-oh my!"

"I see." Mr. Tucker nodded. "Miss Layton, do you have a rebuttal?"

"I think that to some extent Chad has a point," Kathryn said thoughtfully, "but I still think that in the end, it's true. We'll do things that put our own lives in jeopardy to keep those we love safe."

"Come on, Kat. It's a cliché, and you know it," Chad said in annoyed exasperation.

"That's interesting," Mr. Tucker said. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Mayes, but aren't you and Miss Layton going together even as we speak?"

Chad's face constricted slightly. "Yeah, everybody knows that. So?"

"So, is there anything you wouldn't do for her?" Mr. Tucker asked inquisitively.

Robyn suddenly felt sorry for Chad as she watched him squirm in his seat. He was stuck, and every student in the room knew it.

"What are you saying? Would I die for her? Lay down my life so she could live?"

"Something like that," Mr. Tucker agreed.

"I don't think any girl is worth that," a smooth voice directly behind Chad said.

Robyn turned in her seat, and her heart stumbled for the second time that day. It was him. The vagrant. The god.

"Ah, Mr. Hudson, I thought you might have an opinion on the subject," Mr. Tucker said knowingly. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Love isn't worth risking your life for. I mean, okay, you risk your life, and she says she loves you, and then what, six months down the line you hate each other's guts?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the point?"

"The point is that you put someone else above yourself, Sean," Kathryn said, visibly irritated.

"Other people only let you down," Sean said knowingly.

"Not all people are like that." Kathryn turned in her seat to take him on square. "What about Chad, here? You two have been friends forever. Has he ever let you down?"

"That's different," Sean said, shaking his head. "That's about friends-not about love."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Mr. Hudson," Mr. Tucker said, breaking into the conversation. "I think that's exactly what this piece is about. Let's say for instance that Chad here needs your help with something, but it's going to really put you out. You're really going to have to go out of your way to do it. Would you put aside something you think is important to help a friend?"

"Probably," Sean said off-handedly, "but that's different. That's not love. That's friendship."

"Is there a difference?" Mr. Tucker asked.

Chad held up a weak hand. "Let me just say, I think there is a very big difference."

Several students snickered, but Mr. Tucker never wavered. "Well, I think that love comes in a lot of different packages-sometimes in the form of a man-woman relationship, sometimes in the form of a parent-child relationship, or a grandparent-child relationship like in 'A Worn Path, ' and sometimes in the form of a relationship between friends. What do the rest of you think?"

Robyn tried not to be obvious as she watched Sean listen to the others expound on the truth of Mr. Tucker's statement, but it was difficult not to attract attention because she sat in the front, and he sat in the back. Nonetheless, even from that odd vantage point, she could see the edge around him. Yes, it was clear that Sean Hudson had weathered his share of storms, and they had made him very, very sour on life.

She wondered what he had done this morning to get into trouble. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out this morning wasn't his first trip to the principal's office, and her thoughts wandered back and forth from the conversation in the classroom to the desk behind Chad. He had an edge, a thin, razor-sharp edge that kept everyone else at a distance, and she knew she would never have a chance with him even if she was the last girl left on the planet.

The bell startled her from her daydream, and she stood awkwardly as the other students rushed past her out of the classroom.

"Miss Lockhart," Mr. Tucker said. "It's nice to have you in class. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thanks," she said shyly and followed the herd into the hallway.

The crush of bodies was still unbelievable to her. She had never seen so many people in one place in her life. She pulled the schedule out of her pocket and scanned it. Only two more classes and she would be free again. Trigonometry, Mr. Rascoe, Building B, Room 251. One thing was for sure she would get her exercise doing this.

By the time Psychology was over at 3:30, Robyn was exhausted. It had been seven and a half hours of lugging an ever-growing number of books up and down stairs and hallways, to rest a few minutes in a classroom, only to find that she had to do it all over again.

Slowly, she let the overstuffed backpack slide to the floor as she pulled out her schedule. Locker number 2117, Floor 2, Building C. Whatever that meant. She leaned against the wall as the hallway emptied out around her. This school was like a labyrinth, and she had the sinking feeling that by the time she figured it all out, it would be time to graduate.

"Miss Lockhart, staying after school, are we?" Mr. Tucker asked, surveying her curiously.

She looked up and smiled at the only friendly face she'd seen all day. "No. I thought now might be a good time to find my locker, but I don't even know where to start."

"Oh, well, let's see." He took the paper from her and scanned it. "Building C. That's where the newspaper's at. I was just headed over there. I can show you if you'd like."

"That'd be great," Robyn said, hefting the backpack onto her shoulder.

"So, how was your first day?" he asked as they started down the hallway.

"Okay," she said and then sighed. "A little overwhelming."

"I can imagine. Was your last school this big?"

Robyn laughed as they pushed out the door into the sunshine. "The whole school kindergarten through 12th grade only had 275 kids in it."

"Oh, so this is like culture shock, huh?"

"You could say that."

"So, what kind of things did you do at your old school?"

"The usual, band, student council, track, the newspaper, yearbook..."

"Wow, when did you find time for school?"

Robyn laughed. "I was in line to be either valedictorian or salutatorian."

"I'm impressed," he said, opening the door to Building C.

"Yeah, well, it's no big deal." She shrugged to emphasize the point, but the words burned her throat.

"So, you say you wrote for the newspaper?" he asked as they trekked down the dimly lit hallway.

"Yeah, for two years."

"But you didn't sign up for the newspaper staff here?"

"I wasn't sure I could cut it here, you know. I heard they print a paper twice a week. We were lucky to get one out a month."

"Well, I'll tell you what, if you ever want to come check us out, we're on the third floor," he said, pointing directly over their heads.

"We?" she asked, puzzled.

"Oh, yes." He held out his hands. "Meet the Chronicle's advisor."

"But I thought you taught English."

"I do, but newspaper's my first love. I had to teach English for two years to get my foot in the door here, and by the time I inherited the newspaper, I figured out I kind of like English, too. So, what can I say? They made me a deal I couldn't refuse."

Robyn nodded.

"Well, this is where I get off." He turned onto the next flight of stairs and pointed down the hallway. "I think your locker should be right down there."

"Thanks," she said gratefully, knowing it really would have been graduation time before she found this place.

"Oh, and if you ever want to come check out the paper, you're more than welcome," he said, smiling.

"Thanks. I'll think about it."

He bounded up the stairs. Hefting her sliding backpack up again, Robyn turned down the hallway and smiled. Mr. Tucker really was nice. She was glad she'd had a chance to meet him outside of the classroom. It wasn't that the other teachers were mean, but they were much more formal than Mr. Tucker. He seemed like he had the time to talk-not like she was wasting his time.

In the maze of gray doors, she finally located her locker. It was a tiny expanse, hardly big enough for six books, and she wondered what someone with an instrument case or a sports bag had to do to get their stuff in one. Suddenly she realized that with the proximity of her locker to her classes, she would be lucky to get here twice a day, much less before and after every class.

"Welcome to the wonderful world of James Madison," she said as the depression settled over her once again. It was bound to catch up with her sooner or later.

By the time she got home, the depression had intensified until it was almost stifling. She wondered what Jill and Lisa were up to. They were probably at track practice. She wanted to be at track, too. Far, far away from this dingy, box-filled apartment, her mother insisted on calling a condo.

Okay, so it had an upstairs, and two bathrooms. It was awful, and it was depressing. She locked the two dead bolts behind her and slumped against the door surveying her new life. Her mother would be at work until well after seven. That meant the task of cleaning out the boxes would be hers.

On tired feet she went to the kitchen and looked through the sparse pantry. She'd have to ask her mother for money for groceries tonight. With little enthusiasm, she pulled three cans off the shelf and stacked them next to the stove. She had an hour before it was time to start cooking, so she turned her attention to the boxes.

It was a given that the "family" boxes needed unpacked first although she wished she could start on the mess stacked in her own room. But knowing that wasn't an option, she reluctantly ripped the tape off of one box marked, "bathroom supplies" and began the arduous task of making a home.

Aromatic smells wafted from the kitchen when the first noise came on the lock. Robyn jumped up from the table where her Trig book lay and bounded for the door.

"Hey, Mom!" she said, smiling.

"Hey, baby, smells good," her mother said, fumbling with the keys and the briefcase she held. Robyn watched her deposit her belongings on the coffee table. "Looks like you got some stuff put away."

"A few things," Robyn said, happy her mother had noticed.

"What's for supper?"

"Tuna casserole," she said as she stirred the bubbling concoction. "By the way I need some money for groceries. We're out of everything."

Mrs. Lockhart sighed and sat heavily at the table. "How much do you need?"

"I don't know. I guess $20. I think I can make that stretch until Friday."

"Well, I hope so, or we'll be eating water."

Robyn sighed at the sight of her mother's defeated frame sitting at the table. This couldn't be easy on her either, Robyn thought guiltily. Somehow, she would just have to keep her own depression at bay so she could help her mom through this difficult time.

"So, how was work?" Robyn asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"It was work. I really thought this promotion was going to be great. You know? But it's just more work," her mother said, fingering her daughter's homework. "What's this?"

"Trig."

"Homework on the first day? I'm impressed," Mrs. Lockhart said, gazing at the formulas scrawled across the page.

'It wasn't everyone's first day,' Robyn's head screamed, but she didn't let those words find the air.
"Here's a plate," she said, pushing the homework aside and setting the table. "I have a lot of homework to get done tonight, so I was hoping we could eat now."

"Oh, yeah, sure," her mother said, rearranging the plate and silverware in front of her as Robyn brought the pan from the stove. "It looks good. You know, I'd probably starve if it wasn't for you."

"No, you wouldn't. You'd just have an enormous take-out bill," Robyn laughed.

"Very true." Mrs. Lockhart filled her plate. "So, you didn't say. How was your first day? Did you meet any new friends?"

"Friends? I had enough trouble trying to find my classes," Robyn said, picturing the winding halls of James Madison.

"Well, there's always tomorrow."

After the dishes were done, Robyn escaped to her room under the pretense of a pile of homework. Actually, she didn't have all that much, but she wanted to familiarize herself with the Trig book and study a little chemistry before tomorrow.

Her schedule wasn't too bad, and if anything, she was ahead in most subjects, but she wanted to keep it that way. She had been at the top of her class for eleven years, and just because she changed schools, she didn't want her grades to suffer because of it. But even as she rewrote the formulas into her notebook, her mind wandered again to the back row of the English room.

There was something about him. Him. Sean Hudson. Maybe it was his eyes, or maybe it was the I-don't-
care way he carried himself. There really wasn't one thing that she could put her finger on, but it didn't matter-just the thought of him was enough to send her heart racing.

Sean. Sean Hudson. She wondered what his middle name was. Sean Michael Hudson. Sean David Hudson. Sean Nicholas Hudson.

"Robyn!" her mother called from downstairs, jolting her back to reality. "The news is on!"

She looked down at her notebook and in one swipe ripped the page out. It was scrawled with hundreds of impressions of his name.

"He's not your type," she said, furiously crumpling the paper and sending it flying into the trashcan. "I'm coming, Mom!"

Supper and the news. They were the two times a day she could count on spending with her mother. She wasn't sure when or why the news routine had started, but it had become a daily ritual that she had long ago made a point not to miss.

It wasn't until after she was back upstairs in bed looking around the dark room with no sign of life on any of the walls that the depression assaulted her again. It was always worse at night. During the day she could stay busy, but at night there was nowhere to run.

The apartment was quiet around her. So different from the innumerable nights she had spent listening to the yelling on the other side of her wall. But even the quiet brought a foreboding with it. This wasn't home-not really. This was a temporary stopover on a road leading nowhere, and as far as she could see there was no famous light at the end of her tunnel.

This was life, and it stunk.

Chapter 2

Robyn was proud of herself. She had made it to her locker twice during the day, and so far, she had only gotten lost once. The schedule was tucked safely in her backpack just in case, but she hadn't used it even once.

Just as she reached 417, the bell rang, and she gave an apologetic nod to Mr. Tucker who smiled as she took her seat.

"I have to say that yesterday's discussion inspired me," Mr. Tucker began, and Robyn sat up straighter. She was determined now more than ever to make a good impression with this teacher no matter who might be sitting in the back row. "Mr. Mayes and Mr. Hudson made some very insightful observations yesterday about the role that love plays in literature; therefore, your assignment for the next 45 minutes is to construct a paper stating your opinion on that subject."

A groan emanated from every student behind her.

"Let me make this clear. This is not a take-home assignment. You have 45 minutes, and your paper must be at least 450 words. And yes, Mr. Mayes, grammar and spelling will count."

More groans.

"You have 45 minutes."

Robyn pulled a fresh piece of paper out of her notebook and poised her pen, but then she stopped. What did she think? Was the I'd-risk-it-all-for-you thing really overdone? Or was it simply that the truth behind that statement was so real that authors in all time periods took it up?

She knew what she would've written even a couple of weeks before, but now she wasn't sure. She thought about Jill and Lisa. They were good friends, but would she really be willing to lay it on the line for them? She thought about her mother and father. Where had love gotten them? She was sure at some point they had loved each other. So, what had happened?

"People say that love is blind," she wrote slowly, "but love is only blind because it has the ability to see past faults, past the rough edges of a person down to the core that is really there. Just because the phrase is over-used and has become a cliché does not diminish its truth, and so it is with the theme that loving someone can give one person the courage to risk their own life for the life of another..."

She reread the opening statement. For all the evidence against it, she knew in her heart it was the truth.

Fighting the clock, she had read and reread her paper three times, and yet Robyn was still finding small mistakes here and there. The bell sounded above her, and she sighed as she marked out a word and wrote a slightly better one in its place.

"Your assignment for tomorrow is on the board. Be sure to hand in your papers before you leave," Mr. Tucker said over the noise of the departing students.

Robyn took one more look at her paper and decided it was as good as it was going to get. She pulled her backpack from under her desk and headed for Mr. Tucker's desk.

"Given any more thought to joining the newspaper staff?" Mr. Tucker asked, taking her paper.

"I really don't know if I'll have time this semester," she said with a shrug. "It's tough catching up with everything."

"Well, let me know."

"Okay, I will," she said. "See ya later, Mr. Tucker."

"See ya."

She exited the classroom and joined the mad rush of students flying down the hallway. The frenzy of the hallway was beginning to make perfect sense as she descended the stairs at the same pace as those around her. It was nearly impossible to make it to the next class on time without running and knocking a few fellow students over in the process.

Her foot hit the second floor and at precisely that moment, she felt her body collide with someone going in the opposite direction. In half a heartbeat she was on her knees in the middle of the melee with her books and papers fanned out around her.

"Oh, cripes!" she said as she reached for her belongings through the myriad of passing legs and feet.

"Are you all right?" a pair of legs asked, stopping next to her.

"Yeah," she said, dodging more feet intent on stomping on her English book. She retrieved it just in time.

"Jerks, they should learn to watch where they're going. Here," the voice said, and a hand appeared from above her. Robyn took it, pulled herself up, and came face-to-face with Kathryn, the sandy haired beauty from Mr. Tucker's class. "Hey, I know you. You're in my English class."

"Yeah." Robyn brushed her jeans off in embarrassment. "This place is a little nuts."

"Tell me about it," Kathryn said kindly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, but I'd better get to Trig, or I might not be for long," Robyn said, smiling.

"I hear you there." Kathryn waved slightly. "Be careful."

"I will," Robyn said and rejoined the mad rush around her.

Kathryn reminded her of Lisa from back home. She seemed really sweet and considerate, but she was much prettier than Lisa-or anyone else Robyn had ever known in person. The bell sounded, and the hall around her emptied. There had to be a secret to this, she thought, shaking her head in amazement. She was missing something, but the trick to navigating the halls and getting to class on time was still a mystery to her.

"It's nice you could join us," Mr. Rascoe said, staring at her over his reading glasses when Robyn entered.

She hugged her English book a little tighter to her chest. "Sorry, I had a little accident."

"Well, in the future you should remember that being late for my class is a cardinal offense not to be repeated more than once."

"I'll try to remember that, Sir." Slowly she sank into her seat and sighed. Some terrific first impression she was making. First, she practically wiped out in front of Kathryn, and then she got the full brunt of Mr. Rascoe's wrath for being six seconds late.

"Well, since you made a point of disrupting my class by being late, is it too much to ask that you work the first problem from last night's assignment on the board for the class?" Mr. Rascoe asked sarcastically.

Robyn swallowed hard and pulled her book from her backpack. "I...I can do that."

"Well, let's see it already," Mr. Rascoe said, tapping his fingers on the desk in annoyance.

She got to her feet and forced them to take her to the front of the room. What she really wanted to do at that moment was to run away and never come back, but she knew she couldn't do that. So, with shaking fingers, she wrote the problem on the board and went through it slowly, explaining each step to the board in front of her.

When she finished, she slowly replaced the chalk in the tray and turned around.

Mr. Rascoe appraised her work. "Well, I must say, Miss Lockhart, I am impressed. But try to be on time in the future."

"I will," she said as the heat rose into her cheeks.

She didn't dare look around the room, that would be a deadly mistake, and she knew it. Concentrating on not falling on her face, she resumed her seat and spent the next 40 minutes forcing herself to not make any more embarrassing mistakes.

Somehow Robyn managed to make it through the rest of the afternoon with nary a mistake in sight. When she arrived home, three grocery bags and her backpack in hand, she threw the bags on the table and looked around at the still unpacked boxes. Two more days of this, and she should have most of them cleared out of the living room.

Fighting to keep the depression from finding her, she went into the kitchen to put the groceries away. If this was life, she might as well make the best of it.

"Isn't the city wonderful?"

It was her mother's grand entrance, and it never ceased to amaze Robyn how her mother could hate a place one minute and the next minute it was her Utopia.

"Yeah," Robyn agreed half-heartedly as she watched her mother bounce across the apartment.

"So, what's for supper, sweetheart?"

"Pizza pockets," Robyn said, getting up from her homework to check the oven.

"They smell fabulous."

"You're in a good mood."

"I've got a date," her mother said happily.

"You've got...a...date?" Robyn asked, swallowing hard.

"With Matt Carson, one of the guys who works down the hall from me," her mother said oblivious to the look of dismay on her daughter's face.

"Matt Carson...?" Robyn asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, we're going out Friday night. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yeah, wonderful." Robyn reached for the dishes to set the table. Her mother bounced off to her room, and suddenly Robyn felt like the mother with the teenage daughter, who had a date Friday night.

Friday night? How could her mother do this? It wasn't that she thought her mother would never date again, but she certainly hadn't thought it would happen this soon. What would her father think? What would all her friends think? Then she realized that she had no friends to care one way or another about the situation.

"So, how was school?" her mother asked, breezing back into the kitchen.

"Fine," Robyn demurred as she pulled the steaming bread-covered food from the oven.

"I'm so happy you're doing so well."

"Yeah, so am I," Robyn said, stuffing every protest she had deep down inside her. This was no time to upset her mother's mood, no matter how lousy she felt.

"I have a terrific idea," her mother said, digging into her food. "They're having a Three Stooges marathon on Channel 27 tonight. What do you say we pop some popcorn and make it a girls' night in?"

"I've got some Trig homework I need to finish," Robyn said quickly.

"Oh, come on, surely you can watch one with me. Just for a little while."

Robyn shook her head imperceptibly. There was no point in arguing.

When she finally closed the door to her room after eleven o'clock, not one problem had been touched since her mother's arrival four hours earlier. She sighed in resignation as she turned the light on over her desk. It was one of the few things she'd had time to find in her own boxes.

She thought again about the Mr. Rascoe fiasco. How did she always manage to get the unreasonable teachers? Somehow she always made it through the classes, but in the beginning, it was pure torture. She pulled her calendar out of the top drawer and marked an X through the date. Only 43 more days of this. 43 days, and then a whole year, but she pushed that thought away. One day at a time.

Somehow, at some point, she thought willing the depression away from her, life had to get better.

Chapter 3

Robyn had survived two and a half days in this nightmare, and although the signs of progress were there, she was no longer focusing on them. She hated this place and everyone in it. She hated them all. She wanted to go home-to her real life away from the ten million students that assaulted her every time she ventured out into the hallway, away from the teachers who treated her like one more headache, and most of all away from the torture that had become her life.

Her feet walked although she was no longer paying any attention to where she was going or how she was getting there. She was running on autopilot, but the pilot hadn't even been given flight instructions. So she was somewhat amazed to find herself in Mr. Tucker's classroom before the bell even rang.

Slumping in her desk, she shoved her backpack under it. There was no reason to look around at anyone in the room. Her life, her presence or absence here meant nothing to them.

"Hey, you made it," Kathryn said, gliding in past her desk. "Why don't you come sit over here?"

Robyn looked up to see whom she was talking to and was amazed to see Kathryn looking right at her. She stared at her in utter disbelief.

"Me?" Robyn asked quickly, looking around.

Kathryn laughed. "Yes, you. I never caught your name yesterday."

"Oh, uh, it's Robyn...Robyn Lockhart." Awkwardly Robyn picked up her backpack and followed Kathryn across the room.

"Hi, Robyn, I'm Kathryn, but all my friends call me Kat."

"Hi,...uh, Kat." Robyn sat in the desk next to Kathryn's. It was directly in front of Mr. Tucker's desk.

"Hey, Sugar." Chad strode into the room and planted a kiss on Kat's head. He was several inches taller than Kat and much less sophisticated-looking. In fact, although he wasn't bad looking, average barely described him.

Kat turned in her chair to focus on her boyfriend. "I missed you at lunch."

"Yeah, I had to make up a History test," Chad said, sliding into his seat. "Where's Sean?"

"Who knows?" Kat shook her head sending her hair in a gentle fall over one shoulder. She pushed it over her ear with one perfectly polished fingernail. "Probably in the principal's office."

Chad snickered as the bell rang.

"Well, it's nice that everyone could make it back," Mr. Tucker said, striding in, briefcase in hand. "Mr. Mayes, where's your friend?"

"I don't know." Chad shrugged. "He's my friend, not my Siamese twin."

"Huh, could have fooled me." Mr. Tucker pulled some papers from his briefcase. "Before we get to today's assignment, I thought you all might like to see how you did with yesterday's."

Groans.

Robyn sank into her desk and tried to disappear, but that was difficult right under the teacher's nose. As Mr. Tucker handed out the papers, the groans continued.

"I have to agree, Mr. Mayes," Mr. Tucker said, handing Chad his paper. "After your marvelous performance in class, I expected much more. Kathryn, very good as usual. And Miss Lockhart..."

The door swung open with a bang, and the paper in mid-transfer between Mr. Tucker's hand and Robyn's didn't quite make it. In one giant swoop the paper slid across the floor right into the foot of Sean Hudson. She saw it happen, but somehow she knew her eyes must be mistaken. Suddenly she couldn't breathe, and she couldn't think.

In ultra-slow motion, Sean reached down, scooped her paper up, and handed it back to Mr. Tucker with a smile that looked like silk. Tucker promptly handed it to Robyn, who didn't even realize she had it in her hand. Suddenly her world was spinning, and all she could see was those eyes and that amazing smile.

"Sorry I'm late. There was a little misunderstanding in the chemistry lab," Sean said smoothly, and it was obvious that he was used to these little scenes.

"Is it still standing?" Mr. Tucker asked, worriedly raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but you wouldn't believe what sodium does in water." Sean slid into his seat in the back, basking in the attention of his fellow students. "They really ought to warn people about that."

There were several chuckles around the room.

"Very clever, Mr. Hudson." Mr. Tucker handed Sean his paper. "You know you ought to learn to use that wit in your papers-it might keep your grades out of the basement."

"I wouldn't want to strain myself," Sean said, looking at the paper but never losing the smoothness.

It was difficult not to be mesmerized by him. He was so sure of himself, and she was sure as she watched the exchange that he'd never been called to the front of the class in retaliation for being late before.

Mr. Tucker strode back to the front. "Let's turn our attention back to last night's assignment."

Robyn opened her book even as she fought to remember what she had read last night, but the image of Sean Hudson and his amazing brown eyes was seared into her brain, and nothing else was getting through.

"Help me out here, Miss Lockhart," Mr. Tucker said, breaking into her thoughts. "What do you think Cullen is saying in 'Any Human to Another'?"

With great effort, she willed her head to locate an answer. "Well, I think she's saying that underneath all the external things, we're all alike. We all feel pain. Even if a person looks different on the outside, underneath, where it really counts, we're all alike. We all get scared. We all feel lonely, and we all just want to be loved."

"Impressive. Someone who actually read the assignment." Mr. Tucker nodded. "What do you think, Miss Layton?"

"I agree with Robyn," Kat said, glancing over at her with a smile, "but I think she's also saying that when one of us feels pain, it hurts us all-like we're all intertwined or something."

"Do you agree with that?" Mr. Tucker asked.

"In some ways," Kat replied as her gazed narrowed down the barrel of the question. "I think it's like the story about the Nazi's. You know-they came for the Jews, and I didn't say anything because I wasn't a Jew. They came for the Catholics, and I didn't say anything because I wasn't a Catholic. Then they came for me, but there was no one left to stand up for me. I think we're here to stand up for each other and to help out when and where we're called to."

"Any other observations?" Mr. Tucker asked, nodding to the rest of the class.

"Well, I think she's right on in the line that says, 'Joy may be shy, unique,/Friendly to a few,'" the smooth voice Robyn had come to know so well said.

Mr. Tucker folded his arms and leaned on the front of his desk. "How so?"

"I think she's saying that most of us never experience joy, that life is just a mountain of pain and sorrow," Sean said, and Robyn could see his arms crossed without even looking back.

"Do you agree?" Mr. Tucker asked to anyone who wanted to respond.

"I think that's awfully pessimistic," Kat said with mild annoyance. "I mean life isn't all pain."

Robyn thought about her life during the last year, and truth be told, she didn't see much joy anywhere in it. It wasn't hard to agree with the poet-or with Sean.

"Come on, Kat," Sean said in disbelief, "pain is the only thing that all of us know something about."

"I have to agree with Mr. Hudson," Mr. Tucker said. "On some level we all can relate to pain, so what then is our mission in life according to Cullen?"

"To help one another deal with the pain by letting other people know we've been there, too," Robyn said before she had time to stop her tongue, "and to let them know we'll do whatever it takes to help."

"Good answer," Mr. Tucker said.

"Great." Sean laughed cynically. "Now we're back to I'd give my life for you because you're a fellow human being, and I love you."

Robyn suddenly wanted to disappear.

"Imagine that, Sean. Is that still a message that's so hard to believe?" Mr. Tucker asked.

"No, not if you live in a perfect family, surrounded by perfect people. But where I come from, putting yourself on the line for anyone else is just plain stupidity."

The bell cut the conversation in two, and in a heartbeat students filled the aisles talking and laughing about anything that had nothing to do with English.

"Read the next four poems for tomorrow," Mr. Tucker called over the din. "Miss Lockhart, may I speak with you for a moment?"

"Oh, okay." Robyn stood and tried to dodge the exiting students.

"I know I probably sound like a broken record," Mr. Tucker said, "but after reading your paper from class yesterday, I'd really like you to consider writing for the paper. I know you're new, and everything's overwhelming right now, but you show real promise in your writing."

"I don't know, Mr. Tucker," she said as she hugged her books to her.

"Tell you what, why don't you come by after school today? It's on the third floor of Building C. There's usually something going on up there after school. What do you say?"

"Well,...I don't know. I guess a visit wouldn't hurt."

"Great. It's Room 322. I'll see you there right after school."

"Sure, Mr. Tucker. After school." She glanced over her shoulder at the door. "Well, I'd better go, or I'm going to be late for Trig."

"No problem. Take care."

"I will."

She wasn't sure, but she had the feeling that several students along her path to Trig were on their knees picking their books up off the floor. This time thing was the craziest thing she'd ever seen. There wasn't time to even get to class much less to go to the bathroom or anything else that might happen to be important.

"Jeez," she said through her gasps for air as she slid into her seat just as the bell sounded. "Whoever came up with this schedule should be shot."

"Please take out a clean sheet of paper," Mr. Rascoe said formally. "I hope you all did the homework last night as the pop quiz will cover each of those problems."

Somehow she managed to stay sane long enough to finish Rascoe's pop quiz, but the remainder of the afternoon was spent dreading her visit to the paper. Why had she told Mr. Tucker she would go up there? It was crazy to even consider working at the paper. She didn't have time.

She needed to be at home, emptying out boxes, cooking supper, doing her homework, and trying to keep her life from totally disintegrating around her. Her mother might love the city and its hectic pace, but she hated it. Rushing around did nothing for her other than cause heart palpitations and occasional skinned knees.

There was no way around it, she would just have to tell Mr. Tucker that she couldn't do it. He wouldn't understand, of course, but how could he? How could anyone understand how unraveled her life had become? She didn't even understand it.

Reluctantly, she gathered her books out of her locker as the crowd thinned out and then disappeared. She could hear the other students making plans for later, yelling and laughing, but she felt invisible. In fact, she wished she was invisible. It would solve a lot of problems.

The few people who knew she existed, insisted on making her life miserable anyway-even Mr. Tucker, who she was sure meant well. She wasn't up for more humiliation at the moment. She'd already suffered enough at the hands of Mr. Rascoe to last anyone a lifetime.

Her shoes clicked on the empty stairs as she climbed to the third floor.

'Might as well get this over with, so I can go home and unpack some more,' she thought, wishing her life would just revert back to normal. '322. Here goes nothing.'

She pulled the door open and stepped into the brightly lit room. In an instant, however, she found herself in the center of a whirlwind.

"You got that story for me yet, Parker?" someone called from the far end of the room, as a young man with several handfuls of paper rushed past her out the door.

"It's coming, Cindy, hold your horses!" a young man, Robyn realized must be Parker, called back.

"I've been holding them for three days! I need that story!"

"If you'll shut up, I'll get it to you!" he yelled back.

"I need the track story for page four cut down to seven inches, Jack," a sprite little pixie-headed girl said, walking past Robyn, who truly felt invisible here.

"Seven? Come on, Janet, I already cut it down to ten!" someone yelled from a back room that Robyn couldn't see.

"It won't fit on this page, unless you want me to run it over the ad from Ken's Sports Shop," Janet replied.

"You're the lay-out editor, edit!" Jack yelled, coming out to face his adversary.

"Well, you're the sports editor, you edit it!" Janet yelled back.

This was a very bad idea. The paper back home had been nothing like this, and leaving suddenly sounded very good. She could just tell Mr. Tucker she'd decided against it; there was no way she was going to work in this madhouse. She turned on her heel and collided with Mr. Tucker himself.

"Robyn! Cool, you made it," he said as though she had finally walked into the party. "Let me introduce you to some people."

"Oh, I...uh," she stammered as he stepped past her and walked into the chaotic newsroom. She had no choice but to follow him. "Umm, Mr. Tucker, I think I've changed my mind."

But the din of reporters and editors drown out her pathetic attempt at declining.

"This is Cindy Pendergraft, our copy editor," Mr. Tucker said oblivious to Robyn's objection. "And this is Janet Jenkins. She's the layout editor. Back in that room is the sports department. Over here, is our team of reporters. Jeff Parker, Carmen Ruiz, Michael Bentley, and Aimee Gentry. Hey, where's Layton?"

"Tracking down a story for Tuesday," the girl Robyn was vaguely sure was Aimee said.

"Yeah, you know Layton. Her story's been in for three days, unlike some people's!" Cindy said pointedly.

"You'll get your story!" Jeff said in annoyance even as he typed.

"Deadline's in ten," Mr. Tucker said, looking at his watch.

"It's coming!"

Mr. Tucker shook his head in slight exasperation.

"Why don't you come in here, Robyn?" he asked, indicating a small cubbyhole of an office. Reluctantly she followed him and sat down on the edge of one of the chairs. "Now I know what you're going to say. You're busy. You just moved here. You don't have time, but believe me, Robyn, we need you."

He sounded so un-teacherlike, she laughed in spite of herself.

"We've had three reporters drop out since the beginning of the semester, and the troops are losing morale quickly." He folded his hands on the desk. "You write so well, and I know you've had at least some journalism experience. It would only be until the end of the year. If you don't like it, you can quit then."

"But I'm not even signed up for journalism, Mr. Tucker," she said, looking for a way out of this trap.

"Well, this morning I took the liberty of talking to Mr. Findley, and he told me that you have Music History first period. He also told me that you can't even get credit for that because you weren't here the whole semester. I suggested you might transfer into journalism first period, and he said he didn't know why you didn't do that to begin with."

Robyn felt the walls closing in around her. Mr. Findley and Mr. Tucker were discussing her schedule? If there was any good in that information, she was having trouble finding it.

"Look, Mr. Tucker, I really appreciate the offer," she said slowly, "but this just isn't the kind of journalism I did back home. We only published a paper every month, and most of the time, we were lucky to get it that out. I really don't think I'm ready for this kind of..."

"Madhouse? Chaos?" He raised his eyebrows. "Tell you what, sit tight here a minute." He jumped out of the chair and stuck his head out the door. "Kathryn, could you come in here for a second?"

Robyn sat stock-still. She wished there was a graceful way out of this situation, but the only escape route was now blocked by Mr. Tucker who in seconds was joined by Kat.

"What's up?" Kat asked cheerily.

"There's someone here I'd like you to meet," Mr. Tucker said.

Kathryn followed him in, but Robyn never moved. She kept her gaze glued to the floor and willed herself to disappear.

"Robyn?" Kathryn asked the second she saw her.

Robyn looked up and smiled shyly. "Hi, Kat."

"So you two already know each other?" Mr. Tucker asked pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah, we met the other day," Kat said, smiling at Robyn.

"Well, that's great. Listen, Kat. I'm trying to talk Robyn here into joining the staff, and I was hoping you might take her under your wing for a week and show her the ropes."

"I'd be happy to," Kat said with more enthusiasm than Robyn had ever exhibited in her life.

"But I can't be here in the mornings," Robyn said weakly. "I have class."

"That's okay," Mr. Tucker said. "I'll make you a deal. Come in after school and work with Kat for one week. If at the end of that week, you still want to bow out, I'll let you. No questions asked. But if you decide to join, I'll get Findley to give you a full credit for journalism for this year. How's that?"

Robyn sighed, and seeing no way out, she finally nodded.

"Great! I knew you'd say yes," Mr. Tucker said.

'Like I had a choice,' Robyn thought sullenly.

"Well, I'd better go and referee a few fights," Mr. Tucker said, standing quickly. "You two get acquainted. Oh, and Robyn, welcome aboard."

And he left. Robyn's brain was in turmoil. Welcome aboard? She wasn't aboard-at least she didn't want to be aboard.

"So, what do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?" Kat asked. "On deadline day this place can be a madhouse."

"I noticed," Robyn said.

"Come on, I'm supposed to meet Chad at the Electric Grill," Kat said, standing and smoothing her impeccable jeans into place.

"The Electric Grill?" Robyn asked, also standing and feeling like the ugly stepsister next to Kat.

"It's an after school hangout. Cheap food, lots of people, it's great. You'll love it," Kat said already out the door and back in the newsroom.

'Love it might be a little overstating it,' Robyn thought as she followed Kat back out into the fray.

"It's seven and a half," Jack said, throwing the copy sheet onto Janet's desk. "That's the best I can do."

"Well, then I guess I'll just have to chop this last paragraph in half," Janet said, heatedly as Robyn followed Kat over to a desk.

"I just need to grab a few things," Kat said seemingly oblivious to the war escalating at the editor's desk.

"Todd, tell him he's got to cut this!" Janet said, walking determinedly into another small office.

"It can't be cut!" Jack said, following her.

"Let's get out of here," Kat said, obviously trying not to laugh. Robyn gratefully followed her out into the quiet hallway. "Don't mind them. They get like this every deadline day."

"Doesn't that get a little intense?" Robyn asked, raising her eyebrows.

Kat nodded. "Most of the time I try to stay well away on deadline day. I get my story in at least the day before. That way I don't have to deal with the egos."

"Is it always like that?"

"Since I've been around it has, but believe me, if I was editor, things would change," Kat said as they descended the stairs.

"Why doesn't Mr. Tucker do something about it?"

"He's of the philosophy that the editors are in charge. He's only there to read the final copy and to make sure no real blood is spilled."

"Sounds like a fun job."

"It's better than it looked today. Don't let it fool you. The paper's really a fun place to work. In fact, by next year the three top dogs will be gone, and I'm hoping with any luck, I'll get my chance to run it the way I want."

"No blood?"

"No blood," Kat said, laughing as they pushed out into the cool spring air. "So, you never did tell me where you're from."

"A little town in Iowa. I'm sure you've never heard of it," Robyn said. "It's so small most of the people who live there have never heard of it."

Kat laughed "Can't be that bad."

"Let's put it this way, I have more students in the classes that I'm in right now than the whole high school had back home." Home. The word hit her like a brick, and she ducked her head to hide the pain it brought up.

"So, why'd you move?" Kat asked softly.

"Mom decided she didn't want to stay in some backwoods, hick town."

"What about your dad?"

Robyn watched her feet crossing the lines on the sidewalk. "My father still lives there. They got a divorce a couple months ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kat said sympathetically.

"No big deal," Robyn said, shrugging and trying to make herself believe that, which wasn't working. "It'd been coming for a long time."

"That's got to be rough though, moving so far away from your friends in the middle of the year."

"I'm managing."

"Well, you're stronger than I would be," Kat said with admiration as she opened the door to the Electric Grill and held it for Robyn.

The place was just the way she'd pictured an after school hangout in the city. Kids milled about, no longer in a hurry to get anywhere. The music and the clink of the pool balls from somewhere in the back punctuated the continuous conversations pouring out around her.

It was odd, but she felt like this was a place she could truly fit into.

"There's a booth over in the corner," Kat said, directing her past the tables.

Robyn slid into the booth with the sudden realization that she had no money with her. But worse, she would never have the money to eat here-ever. The feeling of being different descended again.

Kat picked up a straw and toyed with it. "So, you're thinking about joining the paper?"

"It's more that Mr. Tucker's thinking I'm joining the paper," Robyn said as she studied the dark brown heavily scratched table, thinking of the apartment and the supper that was waiting to be made.

"Well, all I can say is it's been good for me," Kat said seriously. "I've made some really good friends there, and it's helped my writing skills a lot. I'm even thinking about going into it as a profession someday."

"Oh, what does Chad think of that?" Robyn asked before she'd thought how that comment would sound.

"Chad?"

"I...uh...I just noticed the two of you in English class," Robyn said, willing the floor to swallow her whole. "You make a good couple."

"Chad and I've been friends for a long time. It's just weird sometimes thinking of us as a couple," Kat said, smiling to herself. "In a way, I know I should be going out with all these other guys, but I can't imagine not being with Chad. It's weird. I know."

"It's not weird. I wish I felt that way about someone." Robyn sighed and suddenly felt more alone than she had since her first minute in the school. "Believe me, dating is no picnic. I'd take what you have any day."

"Hey, Sugar," Chad said, suddenly sliding in next to Kat and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Early deadline?"

"No, my story was already in." Kat radiated pure joy at his arrival. "Chad, I'd like you to meet Robyn. She just moved here from Iowa."

"Iowa, huh?" Chad extended his hand over the table, which Robyn took briefly. This was more than she'd bargained for. "So, what do you think of our fair city?"

"Crowded," Robyn said automatically, and her fellow booth-mates laughed.

"Very astute observation from an Iowan," Chad said, smiling at her.

"Robyn's thinking of joining the paper," Kat said.

"Really?" Chad raised an eyebrow. "And you've been trying to talk her out of it… Right?"

"Chad!" Kat said, punching his arm.

"Well, that's all I ever hear about is how bad that place is, and how you're going to quit tomorrow if the editors don't get a life."

"Don't mind him." Kat shook her head. "He's just jealous."

"Jealous?" Chad asked in horror. "Of who? Jack in sports? Or Todd, the illustrious editor-in-chief?"

Robyn laughed. The familiarity and acceptance between them was something she hadn't been witness to in a very long time. It was comfortable-the way love should be.

"So, if Robyn is checking out the paper, what are you doing here?" Chad asked, surveying Robyn suspiciously, and she ducked her head in embarrassment.

"The paper was a zoo today," Kat said. "I thought they might scare her off."

"They scared me off," Chad said seriously. "I won't go up there anymore. I'm afraid they might stuff me in one of the backrooms and let me rot."

"Would you stop trying to scare her? Jeez," Kat said in annoyance. "It's really not that bad. You'll see tomorrow."

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. The thought of all the tomorrows facing her suddenly made Robyn's chest hurt. Tomorrow was for Kat and Chad and other happy people-not for her. Tomorrow only meant more of the same-trying to fit in and never quite making it work.

"Well, thanks for showing me around, Kat, but I really need to get home." Robyn looked at her watch in an effort to emphasize her pressing schedule, but it was later than she thought-much later in fact. If she didn't get supper started soon, there was no way it would be ready when her mother made it home.

She slid out of the booth and stood up before anyone could protest.

"You take care of yourself," Kat said, smiling at her, "and watch out for flying missile people in the hallway."

Robyn laughed despite the cloud of depression floating over her. "I will. Thanks, Kat."

"I'll see ya around," Chad said, extending the hand that wasn't around Kat's shoulders. "It was nice to meet you, Robyn from Iowa."

"Nice to meet you, Chad. Take care you two." She shook his hand quickly and hurried away from the table on unstable legs.

'Calm down,' she willed herself. 'Just get outside, and you'll be fine.'

She pushed through the door and escaped into the fresh air outside. As desperately as she wanted new friends, making them was immensely more difficult than she'd thought it would be. They probably thought she was an idiot. Her jokes were lame, her clothes were out-dated, and she looked like a fourth grader next to Kat.

What she really wanted was to be back in Iowa, running around a track, out-pacing Jill, and being as far away from the Electric Grill as she could get.

Sean saw her coming out of the Electric Grill, but he was sure she didn't see him. Girls like her didn't notice guys like him. He watched her walk down the sidewalk, and it occurred to him that it had only taken her three days to find this place. The implications of that were clear. They were from two very different worlds, and he might as well get used to that fact.

He yanked the door open and quickly found his friends huddled in a corner booth.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" Sean said, sliding into the empty side.

"Ah, man, you have the worst timing." Chad shook his head. "Two minutes earlier and you could've met Robyn from Iowa."

"Robyn from Iowa?" Sean asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, she's the new girl in Tucker's class," Kat said, surveying him closely.

"The new girl in Tucker's class?" Sean asked, knowing instantly whom they were talking about but not wanting them to know that. "I don't think I've seen her."

"Come on, how could you miss her?" Chad asked teasingly.

"Watch it, Buddy." Kat threw her weight against him. "You're spoken for. Remember?"

Chad raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, but Sean isn't."

The house was empty, and it seemed to Robyn that her life these days consisted of wishing for someone to be there when they weren't, and wishing she was alone when they were. She pulled out tomato sauce and noodles. Spaghetti would be fast, and if she was very lucky, her mother wouldn't even notice she hadn't been home on time.

She started the spaghetti and then went into the living room. Six more boxes, and the move would be official-except, of course, for her room, which still looked like the storage room of a supermarket. Dutifully she ripped the tape off of one of the boxes and began shelving the last of the family's belongings.

"So, how was your day?" her mother asked, a forkful of spaghetti poised above her plate.

"Fine," Robyn said, sighing.

"Do you like your teachers?"

"They're okay."

"So, you never told me what classes you're actually taking."

"Same as at Lakota," Robyn said, choking on the school's name. She quickly took a drink of water to wash it down. "But you know, it's still school. Same old, same old."

"Things haven't changed much then," Mrs. Lockhart said, studying her daughter. "I bet you're making all kinds of new friends."

"A few." Robyn thought about Kat and Chad. They were nice, but of course, they weren't really interested in being friends with her. She wouldn't attract friends like them. They were popular; she wasn't, and she never would be. This conversation was quickly making her lose her appetite, and changing the subject sounded like a very good idea. "So, how's work?"

"Matt stopped by my desk to talk today," her mother said, instantly sounding like a teenager with a crush again.

"Oh?" Robyn said as she wished there was a conversation topic that she actually wanted to talk about.

"He's so sweet. You're really going to like him," her mother said happily, and a knot tightened in Robyn's stomach. She didn't want to like anyone-especially not someone out to replace her father. "He works in accounting, and he's got this really fabulous sense of humor. I just know the two of you are going to hit it off."

Suddenly the spaghetti on her plate looked like a mixture of blood and guts, and Robyn pushed it away. "I've got some homework I've really got to get done."

"But you hardly touched your food."

"I'm not hungry. I ate a big lunch."

"Oh, well. Okay. You go on, I can get the dishes tonight," her mother said, looking at her daughter worriedly.

"Thanks," Robyn said with no energy at all.

"Do you want me to call you for the news?"

"Sure," Robyn said, wanting to calm the worry in her mother's eyes. Life was tough enough at the moment, and she definitely didn't want to have to reassure her mother she was fine every other second. "I'll just be up studying."

"Okay," Mrs. Lockhart said, watching her daughter's retreating back.

Robyn walked slowly up the staircase. Maybe she really was getting sick. That would be a blessing. Her body really did ache, and her stomach felt a little queasy, too. But it was probably stress. She couldn't be lucky enough to really get sick and miss school. So far since the move she had only had bad luck, and she saw no reason for that to change now.

Chapter 4

"Why can't I catch a break?" Robyn asked the ceiling the next morning when she awoke feeling fine. "Jeez. Is one little flu bug really so much to ask?"

'Apparently it is,' she thought as she dragged herself from the bed and over to the mirror. Another day in the halls of purely perfect people. She made a face at the girl in the mirror. Two more days before the weekend. At Lakota she could remember whole years that seemed to pass like seconds, but here one week felt like an eternity.

"Oh, but today I have something to look forward to," she told her reflection sarcastically. "I get to tag along with Kat and feel like the ugly stepsister."

She wished she had some make-up. Lipstick. Blush. Anything to make her look less plain. But she had never wasted money on stuff like that, and she didn't plan to start now. Besides, Kat was only being nice to her because Mr. Tucker was forcing her to. There was no reason to think this was leading anywhere.

With that knowledge, her shoulders heaved in a sigh, and Robyn turned away from the reflection in the mirror to start her day.

It was truly amazing that in a school with thousands of students, a person could feel so alone. She had spent the entire day watching the others, and they all seemed to have someone-a friend or a companion. They were all in little groups, talking, laughing, living. It made her feel like a ghost-invisible, only able to watch the living enjoy themselves.

It was hard to concentrate on classes. It was hard to concentrate on anything. She tried, but it would last for only a few minutes at a time, and then poof she would be off thinking about Lakota, or Jill, or Lisa, or anything else besides the shell of a life she was living at the moment.

By the time English class rolled around, Robyn had convinced herself that she was actually invisible-that no one even knew she was there, that, in fact, she wasn't really there at all. Even when the doorknob was in her hand, it didn't register that it was her hand turning it. Somehow it seemed to open of its own free will. She was outside her body, watching herself along with the other students she had observed that day.

She resumed her seat from the first day, sure that Kat's invitation the day before had been a fluke, and buried her head in her textbook, willing her invisible shield to come around her.

"What's the deal, Robyn from Iowa? You like sitting by yourself in corners?" Chad asked the second he bounded through the door.

Startled, she looked up. So she wasn't totally invisible after all. That, at least, was good to know. "Oh, I...," she started, knowing instantly there was nowhere for that sentence to go.

"Come on over here, and join the rest of us." He waved her over to the center of the room.

"Are you sure?" she asked in surprise.

He literally stopped in his tracks to turn and stare at her. "Am I sure? Do birds have wings? Do books have words? Is the sky blue?"

She laughed even as she slid out of the desk and stood.

"Has Chad lost his mind?" Kat asked from behind her.

"Hey, now!" Chad said, sounding wounded. "I was just inviting our new friend to come over here and sit with us. That's all."

Suddenly Kat took Robyn's arm and steered her over to her newly appointed seat.

"Well, I admire your taste in women," Kat said, smiling at him.

"Of course you do," Chad said proudly as Kat deposited Robyn into her new desk.

Kat walked up to Chad who wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her forehead. Robyn sat unmoving, trying to decide where to look. She knew she would never be able to hug someone in public like that.

"So, Friday night it is then," the voice that melted her heart and made her knees feel like jelly said.

Her gaze traveled upward just in time to see Sean standing next to her desk with his arm around a girl who looked twice her age.

"Pick me up at seven?" the fashion model in Sean's grasp said with a voice like syrup.

"Seven it is, Tonya," he said, gazing into the model's eyes with a look that would have reduced Robyn to a sniveling idiot.

"There's the bell," Mr. Tucker said, entering just as the bell sounded. "Take your seats please."

And Sean disappeared from her line of sight. Robyn sat trying to get her mind to function again. This was crazy. Big deal, he was going out with Tonya the Babe who looked at least 25. Robyn shook her head. 'Forget about him,' she warned herself. 'Just concentrate on class and grades and getting through this day in one piece.'

Mr. Tucker was lecturing on the assignment, but Robyn didn't hear a word of it. She was off in her own little world with Sean looking deeply into her eyes and feeling his leather-clad arm around her own shoulders. If she could just look like Tonya or Kat, she might have a chance-but she didn't, and no amount of make-up would ever change that.

"So, you've got Trig now?" Kat asked, standing from her desk the second the bell rang.

"Oh, yeah," Robyn said, wondering how Kat knew that.

"Hey, doesn't Sean have Trig now?" Kat asked Chad as the three of them walked out together.

"Yeah, I think so," Chad said.

Without asking, Robyn heard the implication in both statements, and she hugged her books tighter to her, hoping Sean hadn't heard either one. She glanced back into the classroom trying to surmise if he could have by his proximity. However, when she saw Sean drape his arm around Tonya, nausea and dread hit her full-fisted.

"Hey, Sean, don't you have Trig now?" Chad called from right next to her.

"Yeah," Sean said off-handedly, and then he focused his attention exclusively on Tonya, totally ignored his friends. "So, do you want to go to the movies or what?"

Panic clutched Robyn's chest. What were they doing? "I've got to go." She took off down the hall as fast as her legs and the crowd would let her run.

"I'll see you at the newsroom?" Kat called over the noise.

"Yeah," Robyn said over her shoulder, unsure Kat could even have heard her answer, but certain that if she didn't get away, she would be sucked into something she wouldn't be able to get out of.

As she ran, her thoughts finally caught up with her. Sean was in Trig? How could that be? She'd never seen him. Not even once. There was no way she could have missed him if he was there. No, he must have Trig in some other room, she decided as she opened the door to 251.

She took her seat and watched the door closely, willing him to open it and not open it at the same time. At the sound of the bell she abandoned her watch of the door and pulled her book out of her backpack, but when she looked up again, there he was-in all his god-like glory.

Thankfully there was no Tonya glued to his arm, but Robyn buried her head in her book anyway. So, it was true. He had been here the whole time, and she had missed him. How could that be possible? With her senses on high alert, she followed his steps to the back of the room and into the corner directly behind her.

If he sat behind her, maybe she could've missed him, she reasoned through the fog in her head. But it didn't really matter now. What mattered was that Sean Hudson was in two of her classes, and she was going to flunk out because with him around, concentrating on anything else was impossible.

Her locker door slammed in unison with several around her, and she hurried down the hallway and up the stairs. Somehow the thought of being with Kat seemed exciting. She was going somewhere after school-just like all the other kids slamming their lockers at this moment.

The transformation of the newsroom was difficult to comprehend when she stepped into the expansive but deathly quiet room. There was no yelling, no arguing, no whir from a dozen computers-only a dark silence. Maybe she had misunderstood. Maybe today everyone took the day off.

"Robyn!" Mr. Tucker said happily as he strode in. "So, we didn't scare you away yesterday?"

"Uh, no, Sir," she stammered as she turned and then half-followed him into the room. "I...I was supposed to wait here for Kat."

"She's headed up," he said, nodding. "Her desk is over there. Why don't you make yourself at home?"

Robyn swallowed hard and planted herself next to the desk that Mr. Tucker had indicated. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, sure that she looked like an idiot sitting here by herself in an empty newsroom.

"I'm telling you Eddie LaFounte is going to win state in the 40," a young man said, coming in the door.

"What about Darren Kennedy out of White Fence?" a second guy asked. "He broke the record in the 40 last year."

They disappeared down the back hallway.

"Oh, you're here, great," Kat said suddenly, piling her things on the desk next to Robyn.

"Hi, Kat," Robyn said, feeling like a barnacle on a boat.

Kat sat down at her desk. "I told you it wouldn't be so bad today."

"Where is everybody?"

"Mondays and Wednesdays are nuts," Kat said. "The paper comes out on Tuesday and Thursday, so most of the time, the rest of the week is like this."

"This is better," Robyn said, glancing over her shoulder.

"I agree." Kat stood. "Ready?"

"For what?" Robyn asked, getting to her own feet awkwardly.

"An interview with Findley."

"Now?" Robyn asked as the panic caught up with her again.

"Yeah, my story for Tuesday is on campus crime and what they plan to do about it."

"Campus crime?" Robyn asked slightly alarmed.

"We've always had cars broken into and stuff taken from lockers, but this year seems worse than usual," Kat said as she led the way out of the newsroom.

"Why?"

"I don't know really. It's a guess, but word has it that Reese Jones just took over the Scorpions, and their initiation process just got a lot tougher."

"The Scorpions?" Robyn asked more alarmed than before.

"James Madison's version of the Mafia," Kat said, nodding. "Our very own, home grown gang bangers."

Gangs? Robyn had heard of them, of course, but she'd never thought she'd see one up close and personal.

"So, what's Findley going to do about it?" Robyn asked, intrigued with the topic despite the fear lurking just behind her consciousness.

"That's what we're going to find out."

In ten minutes they were sitting in Mr. Findley' office, and somehow it looked different today. Less threatening. Robyn was sure it was because this time she had Kat by her side.

"The number of reported crimes around school has almost doubled in the last six months," Kat said, sounding every bit the big city crime reporter. "What plans do you have to combat this problem?"

"Well, Miss Layton, we've already implemented the security patrol around school. Their presence has helped," Mr. Findley, a gray-haired man of almost sixty, said formally.

"How has that helped? Crime has gone up," Kat said not letting him off the hook.

"Well, we feel their visible presence on campus helps to deter crime in certain higher crime areas."

"What do they look like-the campus patrol, I mean?" Robyn asked much to the surprise of everyone in the room.

"They're the guys in the blue jackets that walk the halls during and between classes," Kat said dismissively as she focused on the next question in her notebook.

"Huh. I don't think I've ever seen one," Robyn said, speaking her thoughts as they crossed her mind. "I didn't even know they existed, which seems kind of strange because I've been caught in the halls after the bell's rung several times during the last three days. It seems like one of them would've asked what I was doing."

"Well, we only have ten of them, and they can't cover every hallway all the time," Mr. Findley said instantly going on the defensive.

"So, they only work if they happen to be where the trouble happens?" Robyn asked clearly unconvinced. "Sounds pretty ineffective to me."

"Well, we had to start somewhere, Miss Lockhart," Mr. Findley said, and his voice registered a trace of annoyance.

"Do you have security cameras?" Robyn asked totally into the interview now and forgetting that she was supposed to be only observing.

"We're looking into that, but it's only one of several options at this point."

"What other things are you considering? Parking lot patrol? Metal detectors? Student Crime Stoppers?" Robyn asked.

"Those are all options," Mr. Findley said, bristling under this barrage of questions.

"Does the state give you any money for all of this? I mean putting this stuff in place can't be cheap," Kat said, breaking into the conversation.

"No, it's not cheap." Mr. Findley sighed. "And no, for the most part the funds we get are not supposed to be used for these things-they're mostly for new textbooks, computer equipment, that sort of thing."

"It seems to me that textbooks and computer equipment aren't going to help a whole lot if the students don't feel safe," Kat said. "Shouldn't their safety be a paramount consideration?"

"It is, I assure you. We're doing everything we can to keep our students safe while they're on our campus."

"What about the Scorpions?" Robyn asked, jumping into the topic foremost in her mind. "How are you dealing with them?"

"The Scorpions," Mr. Findley said guardedly, and Robyn felt Kat straighten at her elbow. "Well, as with any other group that threatens the well-being of the students, they are being dealt with in the fairest way possible."

"How?" Robyn asked again.

"How?" He scratched his nose. "Well, the best way to explain it is to say it's on a case-by-case basis, I suppose. It's not easy to link an entire group to a crime and make things stick. You can only convict the person who actually commits the crime."

"Okay," Robyn said slowly as she pieced together what he was really saying. "So, let's say someone is being initiated into a gang, and they're told to swipe a stereo. If that person is caught, then that person and not the gang is punished?"

Mr. Findley nodded. "That's correct."

"Well, what about if a school-sponsored group were to require their potential members to commit a crime to get in, what would happen then?" Robyn asked thoughtfully.

Mr. Findley sat in silence for a long moment. "Well, I suppose their right to operate on the campus would be revoked."

"So, what you're saying is if you're legal, the whole group gets punished, but if you're not, nothing happens to the group, only to the person unfortunate enough to get caught," Robyn said.

"Doesn't seem quite fair when you put it like that," Mr. Findley said, sighing, "but yes, I suppose that's what I'm saying."

"So, the only real way to get the Scorpions or any other gang off the campus is to catch and convict every one of its members," Robyn said, zeroing in on the real story. "How many members are there in this gang?"

"It's hard to say," Mr. Findley said, rubbing his nose.

"Some reports say up to a 100 or more," Kat mumbled as she scribbled furiously in her notebook.

"So," Robyn said, disliking the picture that all the pieces of this puzzle were making, "theoretically, they could commit 100 or more crimes, and if they are all caught by your group of ten guys in blue suits, and if they haven't added any more members, and if they actually go to jail or something for every crime, then the halls will be safe for the other students?"

Mr. Findley sat like a stone statue.

"May we take that as a yes?" Kat asked, looking up, her pen poised for the answer.

"All I can say is we're doing our best to prevent and reduce crime on campus," Mr. Findley said formally. "We're implementing policies and incorporating new rules to combat the problem."

"And while you're doing that, are we as students just sitting ducks?" Robyn asked pointedly.

"Or are there things we can do to help ourselves?" Kat asked quickly softening the question.

"Well, as a matter of fact, there are several things you can do-like making sure your cars and lockers are secure. Don't leave valuables in them if at all possible. As far as in school, keep your eyes open and report any strange activity. If you're here at night, use the buddy system to go to cars..."

"So, we're not talking about just robbery then. Are we, Mr. Findley?" Kat asked, breaking into the list.

He sighed heavily. "No, Miss Layton. We're not."

A shiver ran up Robyn's spine. Suddenly this wasn't about playing reporters any more. This was serious. "Has someone been attacked?"

"Back in February, a girl was jumped out by the gym," Kat said, not letting the look Mr. Findley gave her intimidate her into sweeping the story under the carpet. "Luckily a couple of people came along just as it happened. She was okay, but it not long after that, she transferred."

"Unfortunately, we can't be everywhere at once," Mr. Findley said defensively. "Students have to use their heads and not get themselves into a position where they can easily be injured or harmed."

"Like the hallways between classes," Robyn laughed, immediately shaking her head.

"The hallways, Miss Lockhart?"

"Yeah, I got knocked down the other day, and I was almost trampled to death."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Mr. Findley said, more guardedly than the statement warranted.

"You know, come to think of it, how do I know whoever did that to me, didn't do it on purpose?" Robyn asked, suddenly seeing the incident in a whole new light.

Mr. Findley cocked his head suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"Are you kidding? Even a naïve girl from Iowa can see the potential for crime in that hallway. Three thousand students and what, ten security people? One knockdown in a crowded, frenzied hallway? Shoot, by the time you get your bearings back, your stuff could be halfway to Mexico."

Kat nodded. "She's got a point."

"Yes, I believe she does," Mr. Findley finally agreed as he opened a folder on his desk and studied something. "In fact, that's a problem that has just started surfacing. I've had three complaints about incidents just like that cross my desk in the last week."

"So, the halls aren't as safe as we think they are then?" Kat asked, intrigued.

"Apparently we have a long way to go in securing the building," Mr. Findley said slowly. "I honestly wish there was some way to ensure that every student was safe every second of every day they're here, but I can't. Maybe the two of you can get the word out so the students can help us help them. It would be a start anyway."

"It can't hurt," Robyn said suddenly seeing a myriad of things she had done wrong in the last week.

"Well, thanks for your time, Mr. Findley." Kat closed her notebook and shook his hand.

"Thank you, Miss Layton, and you too, Miss Lockhart." Mr. Findley stood and shook their hands. "I'm glad you decided to join the newspaper staff, but I'm thinking I'd better be more prepared for interviews after this."

They all laughed, and then Kat and Robyn made their way out of the office. They were almost out of the building before either of them spoke again.

"I don't care what you say," Kat said firmly. "You're joining the staff."

It seemed like only seconds before Robyn was back home sitting at her own kitchen table trying to concentrate on Trig. But Trig was the last thing on her mind. This story was big. Much bigger than anything she'd ever worked on at Lakota. It was downright frightening to think that at any moment in the hallway she could be the victim of a crime.

She reviewed the knockdown incident again, and it was clear that no one except Kat had even noticed or cared that she was in trouble. How easy would it have been for someone to grab her stuff and be gone? Too easy, she thought with a shiver.

"I wonder what kids who've been going there all their lives think about this?" she said, tapping her pencil on her Trig homework lost in thought. "Do they see the threat? Or are they so used to being bounced around in the hallway, they don't even think about it?"

One way or the other, she needed to find out. Quickly she pulled a clean sheet of paper out of her notebook and scribbled a few questions down. Tomorrow she would do a little unofficial poll of her own.

Copyright Staci Stallings, 2003

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