A List of Cages(48)

“I don’t know the answer.”

“Were you complaining, lying about me?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“I think he just thought my clothes were too small.”

“So you were complaining.”

I shake my head.

“You must have been. Do you think I believe for one second that just out of nowhere this boy took special notice of you and your clothes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Julian…” My name is a sneer. “Why would he notice your clothes?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you not telling me?”

“He was just being nice. He’s my friend.”

“I’ve known you for your entire life.” His mouth twists to the side in an almost smile. “You don’t have friends.”

Tears spring to my eyes, but I don’t feel sad. I feel— “Why is he giving you clothes?”

—angry. “He thought I needed them.”

“Why?”

Fury curls in my stomach. “Because mine don’t fit.”

“And how would he know that?”

My hands curl into fists. “Because he can see!”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Russell look shocked before. But he is, mouth slack and eyes wide—shocked. For a minute neither one of us speaks.

Then his face unfreezes and turns red. “Go get it.”

“W-what?”

“Don’t ask me what again. Go get it.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“That boy Adam, he’s been planting things in your head! You never used to talk to me this way.” Russell strides to the cabinet, yanks open the bottom drawer, and grabs the switch. “Take off your shirt.”

Behind my eyes, I see the fury on Adam’s face the night Russell hit me with the shell. My heart’s a fist, opening and closing and growing with every beat. “I did nothing wrong!”

The switch blurs. Red slashes of pain. Pain that isn’t right or mine to take. I fall, kneeling inside Adam’s anger.


When I wake, I’m stiff and sore. I glance at the dresser, but there’s no money and no shell. Whatever courage I felt last night is gone. All that remains is regret. I have a long walk to school, so I need to get ready.

Every movement is slow. Every movement hurts.

I’ve just finished pulling on my sneakers when Russell appears in my doorway. “I’m taking you today.” He has never, not once, driven me to school.

“Thank you,” I say.

As we zip through the streets in silence, my stomach lurches. I’m afraid I’m going to be carsick, and I can’t imagine how furious he’d be if I threw up on his leather seats. I wrap my arms around myself and think good thoughts.

The parking lot is full of kids when we get there, but instead of dropping me off, he pulls into a space. “We’re going into the office, and you’re withdrawing.”

“Withdrawing? I…I’m not going to school anymore?”

“Nora’s agreed to let you stay with her.”

I don’t want to live with Russell’s sister. I don’t want to move far away now that I’ve made friends. But it’s finally happened. I pushed him that far.

“I’ve tried with you for almost five years, but you’re still spoiled.”

While Russell signs forms and waits for my school records in the main office, I close my eyes. If I concentrate, I can bend time and spoons.

But somehow we’re back in his car and I haven’t changed anything at all.

As Russell is turning the key in the ignition, I ask, “Can I say good-bye to Adam?” I’m afraid he’s going to hit me right here, he looks that angry.

Suddenly he laughs. “You really think he’s your friend, don’t you?”

I don’t answer.

“Adam’s the same boy, isn’t he? The one you lived with?”

I nod.

“This is the boy who didn’t think enough of you to call you in, how many years? The same boy who begged his mother to make you leave so he could have his room to himself again? He’s not your friend. You need to remember who’s actually been there for you all these years.”

I gaze out the window. The bell has rung and now the parking lot is empty.

“Do you know his number?” Russell asks.

I nod, warily.

He pulls his cell phone from his pocket and hands it to me. “Make it quick.”

That wasn’t what I meant; I want to go inside and say good-bye in person. But wanting isn’t the same as having.

I find the notebook in my backpack with Adam’s number written in it, and I dial. I don’t expect him to pick up at this time of day, and he doesn’t. It goes straight to voice mail and a robot voice tells me to leave a message.

“Hi, Adam,” I say while Russell watches. “I just wanted to let you know I’m moving in with Russell’s sister and…I just wanted to say good-bye.”


“Wait here,” Russell says when we pull into the driveway. I stay in my seat, looking forward, but not really seeing. After a while I count the minutes as they pass. Ten, twenty, thirty.