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parents often let take over when they’re mad at each other. I should know. My parents had put in enough crazy hours to give lessons. Besides, now that I knew Ambie was in touch with her real dad, I could keep an eye on her and head off any bad decisions—or so I wanted to believe.

    Before I knew it, it was Friday morning, and I’d made it through the first week without forgetting any homework or being late for class. That was probably because my social life—the same one I’d promised myself would be healthy and full—had dropped off the radar screen. Dad was working long hours in the shop, and sometimes wasn’t even home when I went to bed. I kept myself busy reading
The Sun Also Rises
for English class. I’d never read Hemingway before and didn’t think I’d like this book, especially since the cover put me off. I was surprised though how much I got into his writing style and how he could show so much emotion in a few words. I made notes as I read it through the second time and actually had an outline going for my first essay, which was worth forty percent of my final mark and not due until the week before Thanksgiving. Maybe I related to the book so much because I felt at one with Jake’s tormented love. Petehad e-mailed me a second time with a promise to call, but that had never happened, so I was feeling down about him and my life in general. Even Leslie hadn’t bothered to phone me as she always did when we were apart.

    I plunked myself down in my usual seat a whole ten minutes before Mr. Williams was due in class. The effort to be on time was costing me, and I closed my eyes, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep. I’d almost zoned out the noise around me when I heard a voice I didn’t recognize. Opening my eyes, I watched the new boy slide into the desk across the aisle from me. He was talking to Toby Manning, self-professed class clown. Because the new boy hadn’t been to class since Tuesday, I’d figured he’d switched out of biology and English. I couldn’t say that I would have blamed him. Mr. Williams and Mrs. Bailey were two of the tougher teachers Morton T. High insisted on keeping on staff. My other nemesis, Miss Dragot, had transferred schools the year before, but Williams and Bailey were expanding their reigns of terror to fill the vacuum she’d left behind.
    Mrs. Bailey’d been around since they’d first invented feather pens and parchment. She remembered teaching Dad and Uncle Phil English years before, and not fondly. “So, you’re one of those
Bannons
,” she’d said when we’d first met, spitting out our last name like a bad seed. My summer prayer had been for her retirement, but my luck with wishes seemed to be following the usual pattern.
    â€œNo can do. I didn’t get around to taking any notes,”Toby said, grinning, his dimples the size of small craters. “I’m Toby Manning, by the way.”
    â€œI’m Evan Quinn,” I heard New Boy say. “We just moved here from the States.”
    â€œCool,” Toby said. “I don’t remember seeing you after Monday. Were you getting settled in?”
    â€œSomething like that,” Evan said just as Mr. Williams banged his books on the desk so we’d stop talking. As usual, the crack of books on wood worked its magic, and all eyes turned to the front of the room.
    After an hour of note-taking, Mr. Williams set us free. I was cramming my binder and biology textbook into my knapsack when Evan stood and moved into the aisle between our two desks. He looked thinner than I’d remembered, and his face was pale, like someone who’s recovering from an illness. He held out the pen I’d lent him the first day of class. “Thanks for the loan,” he said. “My name’s Evan.”
    â€œGlad to be of help,” I smiled. “My name’s Jennifer. Would you like to borrow my notes too? You