Excerpt: One Out of One

“Good morning,” said the woman herself, swiveling in her chair to face them, her narrow glasses and heavy jewelry flashing. Her dark, thickly curly hair—finally, a non-blonde—pressed against the claw clip holding it in place, and locks escaped, giving her a frazzled but ultimately friendly look. “The new girls, right? There are two empty seats on the left there, third row back, if you want to just take those. And is there anything you’d like to go by that I don’t have on my roll?”

Naomi shook her head, shooting a glance at Ev. The other girl started slightly and stared at Mrs. Millard with open shock. “Ev,” she said after a pause. “I go by Ev.”

“Alright then,” said Mrs. Millard. “It’s nice to meet you, Naomi, Ev.” She nodded to each of them and swiveled back toward her computers, and they made for the specified desks. Andrea had already seated herself in the desk in front of Ev.

“See what I mean?” she said under her breath.

“She’s nice,” said Naomi with some surprise.

“Exactly.” The bell rang, and the blonde girl turned to face front. Those who had been standing around talking to their friends quietly took their seats. Mrs. Millard stood and said, “Good morning, everyone. Can I get a ‘TGIF’?”

“Thank God it’s Friday!” called out a brown-haired boy on the back row.

“Agreed, Hunter,” said Mrs. Millard. “Well, you only have to see me one more time before the weekend, so let’s get this over—”

The door opened, interrupting her speech, and a dark-haired kid, his skin pale and contrasting with his dark clothes, slouched into the room. The door shut behind him, and the room fell silent as he made for the empty desk, just to the right of the one in front of Naomi. As he sat down, Naomi took a deep breath, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart rate. He looked startlingly familiar, down to the mannerisms of walking, but she couldn’t quite place him. Was he someone she’d met in the home? Why would someone like that go to this school? Or had she seen him since then, maybe in passing on the street?

He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out something, his hand covering most of it, but it was too large to conceal entirely. A handheld gaming system—and older one, certainly, but not without its merits. Sony. Released around the turn of the millenium.

No. No way. Not possible. Plenty of people carried those systems, even now. But Naomi couldn’t ignore the name that shot to the forefront of her mind, an instant later connecting with the familiarity. It was him. It couldn’t be. But it was.

What was he doing here?