I saw Jill that Monday, when my mother dropped me off at school. She was studying one of the bushes by the front steps. I remembered that I hadn't met her after school to let her take me to the old stump, and part of me felt guilty. Even if I didn't care about her, it wasn't very nice not to pretend I did.

Strolling over to her, I said, "Hi, Jill. I'm sorry that I didn't meet you after school on Friday."

She didn't turn to look at me, she just peered deeper into the bush.

I wondered if she'd heard me. "Jill, I said I'm sorry," I tried again.

"Shhh!" came her angry, whispering response. Backing up, she looked at me. "If you make so much noise you'll wake them up."

"Wake who up?"

"Shhh!" She motioned toward the bush. "Have a look, but don't talk. Don't even breathe."

I glanced from her serious face to the place in the bush where the leaves parted, wondering whether she was trying to fool me. Not saying anything, I leaned over and cautiously stretched my neck through the hole. At first, I saw only knobby branches and dark leaves. My eyes scanned the foliage. About to retreat in disappointment, I paused when I caught sight of something. Downward, toward the base of the thick plant where a mound of dirt was piled, was a shallow burrow. Small balls of fur were there, gray, with little pointed ears. As my eyes fully adjusted to the dimness, I saw that there were three of them, and they were rabbits.

Removing my head from the bush I turned to Jill. "There're rabbits down there! Little baby rabbits."

"Well, of course there are!" she replied all-knowingly.

"Aren't they supposed to be born in the spring? It's nearly the beginning of October."

She put her hands to her hips. "I know! Strange, isn't it? I guess we can't just assume that every animal has a set date for being born." I considered replying — thought about telling her they'd die when winter came — but before I could, she was grabbing my arm and saying, "Come on. Let's get inside before anyone else figures it out. That's all those babies need is to be bothered by a bunch of goggling kids."

We went into the building and upstairs to our classroom. I didn't mention that I was sorry again, because I was sure she'd heard me the first two times. She didn't seem to be angry with me, and I was relieved.

That afternoon, Ms. Montague told us that she was going to put us into pairs. She wanted us to write play scenes from chapters of the book we'd just read, and she didn't want us to do it alone. As strange as I knew it was, I hoped sharply that Ms. Montague would pair me with Jill. Only the day before I hadn't thought much about her at all. But since my talk with Mrs. McBride I felt as if Jillian Lee was the only chance I had at making a friend, and I had to grab it fast before it flew off. If I had some time to talk to her, maybe we could arrange a trip to the old stump again.

I was shocked, though, when the teacher called my name off of the class list and paired it with Jude Wood. Not shocked because I didn't want to be with him, but because I wasn't with Jill. I just expected that she would have been my partner. As soon as Ms. Montague spoke Jude's name, my insides emptied out. A nervousness like I'd never felt bounded into my stomach like a massive panther, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

The other students began to move. They switched seats and drew closer to their partners, but I sat still. Jude was behind me, and I knew he wasn't going to be moving toward my chair. I probably wouldn't have budged at all if Jill hadn't suddenly poked my shoulder with the words, "I'm going to use your chair. Scoot!" She nearly toppled me out of my desk the way she pulled at my arm.

Out of the corners of my eyes I caught sight of my partner. He wasn't looking in my direction. His gaze seemed to be plastered to his own desktop. I could feel the blackness of his eyes even without glancing into them.

Slowly, I stepped nearer to Jude. I tried my hardest not to look at him, but it was no use. I felt him more than anything. The closer I got, the more shivery I began to feel. It was as if something was being uprooted inside of me and placed in an unidentified pot. Still, I managed to carry on until I reached him. My hands turned the desk in front of his so that it faced him, and then I sat down.

Jude didn't move. I could tell he was alive only because he blinked softly every few seconds. Above the chatter of the class around us, I thought I could hear his breathing, see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

All of my courage came up the back of my throat like throw-up, and I thought I was going to choke on it. I controlled myself, though, and, swallowing, said, "H-hi. I'm Nat." The boy did not lift his gaze or reply. I knew that whatever we were supposed to be working on for class I was going to have to do it by myself. So, to calm my nerves more than to begin working, I flipped open my book to the pages that Ms. Montague had assigned to us. I spoke my thoughts aloud, hoping to see some hint of attention in Jude. "We have to make the dialogue into a script," I began, explaining our process as if Jude were slow to understand. "We have to take what the characters say and talk it out loud." I rarely did work in class, but having such a silent partner made me quickly become a bit of a leader. I felt like I was talking to a wall, and it made me bolder. I decided to test some of my thoughts.

"We could maybe do the part where they're having that conversation about the farm. We could act that out real easy." I said that knowing full well that Jude would never get up and act. "And they talk about the fair that's coming up. Probably one of those country fairs where they have fiddles and harmonicas. They play music. You know – music? I like music. Don't you?" I looked right at Jude, but he still hadn't moved. I drew in a breath and said what I was almost too frightened to say. "I especially like piano music. Is that what you like? The piano? Do you play the piano?"

Then he lifted his dark head. Slowly, as if they were measuring up everything in front of them, Jude's eyes came up to mine. I held back any other words I wanted to say, and he studied me for a long minute. To my disbelief, he replied. "Just do the work," was what he said.

His words grated strangely against my eardrums. An annoyance I hadn't known for some time came into me. "No," I said, pushing my text toward him. "We have to both do it."

I thought the cold stare he gave me was going to thread icicles across the ceiling. But he said nothing.

I heard Jillian's laugh come from behind me. She was talking to her partner, and I grew frustrated. Jude hated me. I'd wanted to know him so desperately because of some feelings and a piece of music I'd probably dreamed up. Why did I care so much about him – so he could hate me like he did everyone else? I didn't want to befriend him. I wanted to hate him as much as he hated me.

"You do play the piano," I found myself insisting. "I heard you. It was last week. You were in the music room, and I was just outside the door. I heard everything, but you didn't see me because I hid when you came out. I was right behind the display case when you walked out the door. And I saw you . . . you . . . you were crying!" I whispered the last word quick and vicious. What had overcome me?

Jude's eyes had widened slightly and his mouth was tighter. While I'd been spilling my secret he'd grown rigid. With my last words – the mention of seeing his tears – he carefully got up from his chair. Without a word, with nothing more than an intense, hateful stare aimed at me, Jude Wood left the classroom. All of the students watched him go, their voices dropping into quiet. No one had ever just stood up and walked out of the room, not even him. Even Ms. Montague was too stunned to say anything.

When Jude had gone, the teacher turned to me. "It's all right, Nat," she said, bustling over and placing a hand on my shoulder. "He has a tough personality."

I couldn't guess why she was trying to comfort me. Wouldn't a teacher be more concerned with retrieving the student she'd just lost? Besides, her words made me feel sick. I had been the unkind one. Jude had hardly said anything at all, and I had been cruel. In that moment I felt as if I didn't know myself.

That evening, after I had eaten dinner with my mother and sisters, I got a phone call. I didn't answer it, but my mom called me into the kitchen and handed me the receiver. She looked confused as she said, "Nat, honey, it's for you."

Holding the phone to my ear, I said, "Hello?"

"You Nat?" said a man's gruff voice.

"Yes, sir."

"Good. My son's got something to say to you."

I didn't have a thought to ask him what he meant. I was too shocked to say anything. The sound of walking carried through the phone to my ear, and then the man's voice came again. He was talking to someone else as he said, "You will say what you've got to say or I'll make you hope your mouth never opens again. I swear if I get any more bad news about you from that school I'll set you up sleeping in those trees out there. Now take the phone like a man and say what you've got to say."

I waited in silence, unsure whether I should just hang up or continue to listen. I wasn't making much sense of things; I didn't even know who had called me.

The voices on the other end became muffled for a minute as someone put their hand over the earpiece. Then things seemed to clear up and I heard a voice say in my ear, "I'm sorry."

Still, I had very little idea of who was talking to me. From somewhere on the other end of the line the man's voice cried, "You call that an apology? The kid doesn't even know who you are! Do it again and do it right!"

"I'm sorry," said the voice again. It sounded strained as it continued. "I'm sorry that I didn't work on the project with you in school today. I'm sorry that I left." His voice shuddered and I knew it was Jude. Jude Wood was calling to apologize to me. Obviously he didn't want to do it. His father was making him.

Something felt awful in me. I couldn't let him just say things that he shouldn't have to say. "It's all right," I struggled. Suddenly my throat had gone dry, making speech difficult. "I shouldn't have said anything about . . . about what I saw." Only absolute silence was on the other end. I wasn't even sure if anyone was listening at all, but I had to keep talking. Nearly whispering, I continued. "I'm sure I saw you, but I don't even know anymore exactly what I saw or heard. I . . . I can't be sure. And I shouldn't have said anything about it in school like I did. I think I would've left too if somebody was talking to me the way I did to you. Really, you don't need to say you're sorry. I should say it to you." I paused, and in the low electrical hum on the other end, I heard a soft click as Jude hung up the phone.