Jack did not complain about either of his parents' decisions. He was in fact quite relieved to transfer to another school. One minus the students he'd been around without ever knowing for all of his schooling experience.

And although he did not want to see a doctor, he recalled vividly the sight of his mother crying in the kitchen, his father distraught, and he knew that they believed this was good for him. Knew they were trying to put things right. He understood why they believed he needed help. He was unsure what he himself thought. Only knew that he had hurt his brother beyond belief. Maybe it really had been his fault. He knew that he had seen something that night, but clearly it had not been Kyle. Jack was entirely uncertain whether he needed medicine or not. His world had always been the same carnival of sounds and images to him. He knew no different. The idea of medicine scared him very much. It would change his mind. That he knew. He wasn't sure how or what it would be like, but he knew it would happen.

Still, as frightened as he was of seeing a doctor, he couldn't bear the thought of tearing apart his parents' belief that this would help him. That this would start their family back on the right path. He had to be strong for his mother and father. And for Kyle.

Another week after Mr. and Mrs. Kemper's decisions concerning Jack, the boy was starting classes at Glorion Middle School in their local public school district. He began without any sort of medication, because the soonest doctor appointment that could be arranged wasn't until the end of the week. So it was with great trepidation that Jack entered his new school on a chilly Wednesday morning.

His mother had gone into the building with him earlier in the week to speak with the counselor and arrange his schedule, look around and find his classes. Jack had been grateful. Because at least, on his first day, he would have an idea of how to get around.

This school was much bigger than Webster Day School, even though it only held grades six, seven, and eight. Jack got there a bit early. His father dropped him off on his way to work, which got him there before the school buses came. But Jack was glad. He'd be able to take his time locating his locker. Opening the lock. Organizing his materials for his first period. The halls were close to empty, save for a few groggy students and some teachers drinking coffee. The place was somewhat ominous, seeing as Jack was unfamiliar with it. His locker was easy enough to find, though, since he'd found it a few days earlier with his mother.

He was to have seven classes. He was on an eighth grade team called Eight Central, and all of his classes were normal. Communication arts, social studies, math, science, art, P.E., and then, instead of having an end room, which was like a study hall at the end of the day, Jack would go to what the counselor called the Resource Room. It was where he would get extra help. Not only that, but there was going to be an extra teacher in both his math and his communication arts class. Someone whose job it was to make sure kids who needed more help got it.

Of course, Jack didn't think he needed help. He understood things . . . when he paid attention to them. Nevertheless, his parents had spoken with the school and then there had been a meeting where everything about Jack's extra help was decided. It had gone so fast that Jack was really kind of unsure what all of it meant. All he knew was that he would have help.

His parents had seemed to really appreciate that.

The lock was stuck. Jack had turned the numbers properly, but the lock itself was jammed. He sighed, not really aggravated enough to get angry. He just didn't want to have to find someone to get it open for him.

Something shone bright at the corner of his vision. To his right. Down at the end of the hall where a window was. Jack quickly turned to it. But if there had been something there, it vanished. Melded into the sunbeams coming in through the window. Maybe there hadn't actually been anything at all. Since his brother's accident, Jack had noticed that the lights he was so used to seeing were flitting across his vision less frequently. So maybe the flash had been a reflection off the sun.

"Lock stuck?" said a voice.

Jack looked back to his locker. A person stood there. A girl, though at first glance, he'd almost thought she was a boy because her hair was so short. But her narrow, dark-eyelashed eyes gave her away. And her large purple hoop earrings.

"Yeah," was all Jack said. He was surprised. No one else was around. Just the girl.

The girl studied the jammed locker for a moment, squinting. She placed the palm of her left hand against the metal. Drew her leg back, then kicked it hard with her high-topped foot. Immediately, the door sprang open; a shower of what looked like sawdust sprinkled to the floor. The girl cocked her head to one side, sniffed, left. Went down the hall away from the window. Disappearing into the curtain that crossed Jack's vision as his eyes adjusted from the light of the window to the gloom of the hall. When he could see normally again, he noticed that other kids were beginning to fill the building.

He'd never had someone help him so casually. Especially not another student. Except for maybe his brother.

He saw the girl again at the end of the day. He had been thinking about her while he sat through his first day of classes. Not because he thought she was pretty or nice. Just because he sensed there was something about her. And when he saw her in his end room, sitting with her face to the wall, staring blindly at a paper on her desk, the fingers of her right hand plucking at a piece of her bangs and one of her feet kicking softly against the wall, he sensed it again. Something. He didn't know what.

Jack had entered his end room to see that there were only eight other people in it, two of whom were teachers. It was a white-walled, white-floored, white-ceilinged room. But there were shadows all over it. Gray areas where they swarmed together. Which moved when Jack's eyes moved to them. The room had tables, a few desks facing the wall, and two teachers' desks. Most of the other kids were at the tables. The girl and another boy were at desks. When Jack came in, one of the teachers told him to have a seat at the table where she was seated. Where two other students were. Two boys. One big and bulky, the other short and stub-nosed. Both of them glanced up when he sat. He didn't notice.

It was called the Resource Room. Though he hadn't heard it called anything else, Jack knew that the other kids thought of it as the place for dumb kids. Or kids who were "different," like him. Not that he cared what other kids thought. He never really had, until they'd started to blame him for what happened to his brother. Now he was around people who didn't know. So he didn't care what they thought. But still, he knew.

And he wasn't trying to make friends. Never had tried. Didn't quite know how. He'd always been so preoccupied with what was happening in his own world. So it didn't even cross his mind to think of that girl as a friend.

Until she said it first.

"Hey!" she said suddenly, turning around.

Jack looked up from the stuff the teacher was passing to him to see that the girl was looking right at him. He frowned in thought.

"You're my friend from this morning. Stuck locker." She was smiling. Still kicking her foot against the wall. Still playing with her short hair. Jack noticed one of her purple earrings was missing.

The teacher at the opposite table, a younger woman wearing a thick turtleneck, raised her head and said, "Grace, please get back to your work. This isn't the time to talk."

So Grace sighed, widened her eyes for a moment, then twisted around so she was facing the wall again. Started scribbling harder on her paper. Still kicking the wall. Still playing with her hair.

Jack kept his eyes on her for a few seconds, but then the teacher at his table drew him back to what she was putting in front of him. "We're happy to have you in our end room, Jack," said the lady. She was older. Had a few hairs on her chin, which moved like jello when she smiled. But she looked nice enough. "Have you taken your medication today?"

He just frowned. Confused. Half-attentive, half thinking about the girl, still.

As if she'd said something embarrassing, the teacher shook her head and waved a hand, flicking a tiny patch of shadow off into the air, where it promptly evaporated. "Oh, nevermind. My brain is getting old, honey. You haven't started it yet, right? Well, let's just get out the work you did in your other classes today and see what we can do to keep organized."

She went on to introduce the other two boys at the table, but Jack really didn't catch their names. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to get up and run and never come back. Something made him hate that room. He didn't know what. But something. Like that girl. Like the hole that had opened in his backyard. Something. Something he had yet to understand.

And there were too many shadows in that room. Crouching at the legs of the tables. Slinking along the sill of the white board. Boldly skittering across the teachers' desks.