Sixteen
Luke went back to school early that afternoon. What good would it do to stay in the garden? He’d only make himself more miserable. It wasn’t worth trying to clean up, to replant. Whoever did this would only come back and destroy his garden again.
Washing his face in the creek before leaving~ Luke tortured himself with questions. Who had done this? Who were the — vandals? The criminals? Luke couldn’t even come up with a harsh enough word to describe them. Then he thought of the insults that had been hurled at him for the past month. Yes. The guilty ones were fonrols. Exnays. Leckers.
Luke wiped his face off on his sleeve, and it left a streak of mud. Who cared?
He circled wide leaving the creek so he didn’t have to see his poor butchered garden again.
He didn’t even bother running across the wide expanse of lawn back to the school. He trudged.
At the door, his brain woke again. He couldn’t go back in now, in the middle of classes. He’d be noticed wandering the halls alone. How many people had yelled at him and Rolly that first day? Luke looked at his watch and puzzled out the time. It was only one-thirty It probably would be another half an hour before classes let out, and Luke could slip into the stream of other boys walking between rooms.
Luke leaned hopelessly against the rough brick wall beside the doorway He almost welcomed the pain it brought, scraping his arm, pressing into his forehead. Maybe he should run back to the woods, where he could hide better, be safer. But he didn’t care. He’d given up his name, his family — everything— for safety. Right now it didn’t look like such a great deal.
Anyway, the woods didn’t seem the least bit inviting anymore. They weren’t his. They never had been.
Standing stoically before a closed door, Luke suddenly understood the clues he’d been too dense or blind — or hopeful — to notice before. Of course some of the other boys visited the woods. That’s why the hail monitor had been so panicked that first night, when he saw Luke near the door. The monitor wasn’t guarding the hall. He was guarding the door. Some boys had been planning to sneak out, that night, and the monitor was making sure it was safe. Probably they sneaked out to the woods all the time.
Luke could imagine how theyd acted, discovering the garden
“Hey, look!” he could hear one boy calling to another. “Let’s rip this up!”
And then they did — a horde of boys stomping the pots-toes and yanking up the raspberries and hurling uprooted bean plants across the garden. Luke’s garden.
“I’m going to find you,” he whispered. ‘Tm going to get you.”
Seventeen
Promptly at two o’clock, Luke eased the door open a crack and peeked in. His timing was good — boys were walking to and from classes, their heads bowed, their eyes trained on the ground. But a hail monitor stood directly across from the door. Luke ducked back.
Or did he know Luke was out there?
Luke could have looked for another door. He could have waited another hour, in hopes that a different hall monitor would be manning this spot, and not paying as much attention. He could have even gone back to the woods and waited until his usual time to come back.
But he didn’t He grabbed the doorknob and yanked.
As the door swung open, Luke saw that the hail monitor wasn’t looking directly at the door just then. If Luke was sneaky enough, he could slip in without drawing attention to himself. But Luke let the door slam behind him. A cluster of boys with their eyes trained on the ground were jolted by the noise and even looked up briefly. Some of them started running, as panicked as if someone had fired a gun. Other boys didn’t even glance Luke’s way.
The hall monitor jerked his head around immediately. Luke quickly joined the slow-moving group of boys with their heads down. But just before he lowered his own head, Luke caught the hall monitor’s stare. Their eyes locked for just an instant Luke waited for the monitor to grab him by the collar, to yell, to haul him off to the headmaster’s office. Luke could feel his shoulder hunching into a cower.
Nothing happened.
Luke shuffled forward with the other boys, and dared to look up again. The hall monitor was carefully looking past Luke.
It was like a chess game, Luke realized. He remembered one winter when Matthew and Mark had brought home achess set from school. They’d had a blizzard after that, and they’d been snowed in for a long time, so Matthew and Mark spent hours playing chess. Luke had been a lot younger then, maybe only five or six. The game that fascinated his brothers only puzzled him.
“Why don’t all the pieces move the same way?” he had asked, picking up the horse-shaped piece. “Why can’t this one go in a straight line like the castle?”
“Because it can’t,” Matthew had replied irritably, while Mark squealed, “Put that down! You~ re messing up our game!”
Now Luke almost trod on another boy’s heel. The boy didn’t even turn around. If everyone at the school were a chess piece, Luke realized, most of the boys were pawns. The hall monitors and the other ones Luke thought of as starers were the big, important pieces. The bishops. And the king. Luke remembered that Matthew and Mark had treasured those pieces, sacrificing pawns and knights and castles to protect them. But Luke hadn’t understood why. And he didn’t understand the hall monitor now.
But he knew how to find out about him.
Eighteen
When dinner was over that night, Luke slipped out of the dining hail behind all of the other boys. Instead of going into the evening lecture room like everyone else, he ducked down a dark hall. It wasn’t a direct route to the door that led outside, but if Luke turned three corners and backtracked a bit, he’d get there.
Luke felt decades older than the scared little boy who’d worried so over the note from Jen’s dad. And gotten so upset when he read it.
Luke wondered: Would he ever look back on this day and regret getting so upset about his ruined garden?
Luke had told himself it didn’t matter if he ran into hall monitors. He could just start asking them questions: