“What should I do with this?” I asked my aunt, Jennifer, trying to see around the huge box in my arms.

It was the day of the move, and early morning sunlight was streaming into the kitchen of our new house in Riverview. It was set on a quiet street called Wellington Drive right out of a storybook neighborhood where the only things missing from the scene were synchronized lawn-mowing and identical golden retrievers.

“Take it upstairs,” I heard her say from somewhere in front of me.

I set the box down for a minute to get my bearings.

There was my father’s half-sister, sitting on the floor with another box, a checklist, and a very serious expression on her young face. Her black hair fell into her standard issue green Harding eyes and she impatiently swiped at it.

Behind her was the door to the front hall and in the front hall were the stairs.

I picked up the box again. “Why didn’t you get the movers to put things where they’re supposed to go?” I complained.

“Did you see their boots? I didn’t want them tracking mud all over the place! I’m sure you wouldn't have, either. Specially since you’re on cleaning duty starting — oh, look — today.”

I sighed and started carefully out the room.

“Just put it down at the top of the stairs. Then get back down here. You and I need to talk.”

I obediently dropped the box on the second floor landing. There was a faint tinkle from within and I winced, guessing I broke something. Then I shrugged and ran back down to the kitchen.

Jennifer brought me up short. She waved a piece of paper in front of my nose and I snatched it.

“That’s your new schedule.”

“Schedule for what?” I asked, putting it down on the counter without looking at it. I was starving.

She gave me an exasperated look and picked it up again as I opened a bottle of soda. “Schedule for school.”

“School?” I gaped at her dumbly. “I don’t need to go back to school this semester. I have all the credits I need!”

“Try telling that to my brother.”

“He can’t do this! I’m finished with high school! Forever! I’ve taken all the classes he wanted me to take. I’m even going to be the damn valedictorian in Coleridge!”

“Well, you’re not going to Coleridge this semester.”

“What? What did he do?”

“Your father made a few arrangements. You’re going to Riverview High for the last term, but you’ll still be graduating as Coleridge’s valedictorian. Technically, you’re like an exchange student.”

“What the hell does he want me to go to school for?”

“Maybe he just wants to keep you out of trouble. And I think it was very considerate of him to make the arrangement with Riverview. Coleridge is too far from here. The drive would exhaust you.”

“Oh, wow. Yeah, that’s considerate. Just as it’s considerate of him to send me to school when I don’t need to be sent.”

“But you like school!”

“Not that much. I’m not that freakish.”

“Please, Mike? It’s really not worth arguing over, you know? Why don’t you just do it? For me?”

She looked up at me, looking so sad and pathetic that I had to give in. I also felt a bit guilty. My arguments with my father were becoming kind of petty.

“All right. What subjects did he sign me up for?”

She smiled and glanced down at the sheet of paper. “Let’s see... You’ve got some Advanced Physics, Honors Calculus, and there’s an advanced Spanish class. You’ve also got Early European Civilizations – that sounds exciting,” she finished dryly.

I made a face but was surprised that my father chose subjects that he knew would be easy for me.

“I think it was also really nice of him to sign you up for art classes. You never took any, even with your talent...”

I shrugged off the compliment. Artistic ability in some form ran in the family. Jennifer herself was a designer for an ad agency. “I’ve never shown him anything I'd made, though,” I mused.

“Mike, everyone knows who made the mural in the Sandclock Café downtown. And there’s the library parking lot, too.”

“He didn’t sign me up for orchestra, did he?”

“Cello or violin. That’s what he put down.”

I sighed. Figures. He had to torture me somehow.

“Well, you shouldn’t let your talents go to waste.”

“But I hate playing that way. It feels too fake.”

“You’ll live.”

“I know,” I sighed. “Unfortunately.”

In spite of my eventual agreement and willingness to go to school, however, I still managed to miss the first day.

I was actually all set to go. I even woke up early, not an easy feat for someone who’d gone to bed half-drunk at one a.m. after an extremely loud party. But I was determined not to mess up and fulfill my father’s expectations. He was smug enough already.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for me.

About fifteen minutes before I was supposed to leave for school, I tripped over my own feet, slipped, toppled, and crashed halfway down the stairs. There was a loud pop and I realized that I, of course, had just promptly twisted – and most probably fractured - my ankle.

I spent ten minutes just swearing furiously under my breath, which didn’t really help me any but which I found quite satisfying. Then I spent ten more minutes trying to contact Jennifer, who couldn’t come home immediately so I was forced to endure what seemed like an hour of pain before she could come back and drive me to the hospital. The kitchen floor was all muddied up by the time she got home, at least, as all the ice I’d used on my foot had melted.

Then I whiled away the rest of the morning in the hospital, waiting for someone to see it. It was a bad day there, as there had just been some sort of accident involving a truck and full bus. By the time they finally got around to me, I was totally numb.

Finally, by early afternoon, Jennifer and I walked out of the place... Well, Jennifer walked. I hobbled.

“Hold on a sec, I’ll get your crutches,” Jennifer pulling over in front of our house.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She ran around the car and disappeared through the front door. She came back a few minutes later with my old crutches.

“Ah, old friends,” I said expansively to my crutches as I took them. “How long has it been since we last saw each other?”

“I’d say about two months,” Jennifer smiled.

“Oh. Why was it, again?”

“Some kids tried to murder you during a soccer game.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember now. Broke a lot things then.”

Jennifer’s eyes sparkled. “Those were honorable injuries, but this latest one...it’s just embarrassing, Mike. What will you tell people?”

I glared at her. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Or what? You can’t threaten me when you can hardly walk.”

“I could still shove you in the pool and drown you.”

“I’m shaking in fear,” she said dryly, opening the door for me. She turned to me once we were inside. “Well, would you like some dinner, or would you rather just rest?”

“I’m tired, irritated, and humiliated. Don’t add hungry to the list.”

She smiled. “All right. Why don’t you go wait in the living room? Then I’ll make you dinner. Maybe a nice juicy steak?”

“I don’t care what you cook. Just make lots of it.”

“You know, I’m really glad your father made you live with me,” she said suddenly.

“Why?”

“You always crack me up.”

I scowled at her but she just walked away, snickering nastily.

“I thought you were tired. You should get some sleep.”

I looked up at the sound of my aunt’s voice. It was much later and I was lying in bed, thinking. She was standing in the open doorway to my bedroom, watching me. “I’m not a five-year-old, you know.”

She smiled faintly. “Really? Sometimes it’s easy to forget that. Specially since you’re so adorable.”

“Are you making fun of me again?”

“I’m not. Listen, you really need to rest. You have school tomorrow.”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

She paused. “I know you still miss her, Mike. We all do.”

I sighed. My entire family was a bunch of mind-readers. I really hated it when they guessed right. “I know you all miss her. But it’s different. You’ll never understand what I...”

“Stop thinking about it. What brought on this gloomy mood?”

I smiled faintly. “Sometimes you sound just like her.”

“Your mother practically raised me, too. And I know she wouldn’t like it if you kept blaming yourself for what happened last year. Don’t think about it anymore. Go to sleep, Mike.”

“Don’t think about it? You make it sound so easy.” I sighed and pulled a pillow over my head. “Close the door, Jennifer. I have school tomorrow.”

I heard her pull the door shut and I lay awake in the dark for a long time. Don’t think about it. It really wasn’t so simple, for every time I closed my eyes I could do nothing but wonder about those two lost weeks – that huge gap in my memory – during which my mother had disappeared from our lives forever.

After a while, however, I gave in to sleep.

The following day was a first because, for the first time in my life, I was lost.

I scratched my head, studying the piece of paper where my schedule was written. Calculus was in B3A. Why did they feel the need to give the rooms such complicated numbers, damn it? I coughed absently. Maybe I should take it as a sign and skip school today.

Then I remembered the stern lecture I’d received from the principal that morning.

“I have looked through your school records, Mr. Harding,” she had begun, peering at me over the rim of her eyeglasses. The principal, Mrs. Whitney, was an elegant old lady. She seemed nice, but I could tell that she was wary of me. As if I were some sort of slowly ticking bomb with an invisible timer.

I had nodded to let her know I was listening.

“I must say I am impressed. Top of your class – of the entire school, for that matter – and from such a prestigious institution. You must be proud of all your academic and athletic achievements.”

“Thank you.” I had even managed to make it sound really humble.

“However—”

Oh here we go. I should have seen that “however” coming.

“I did notice several...irregularities.” At that point, she had opened the folder sitting in front of her and studied it. “A number of detentions in your first year for disruptive behavior?”

I had shrugged. “I was a bit of a rebellious kid,” I admitted. “I wasn’t used to school. I was—”

“Used to private tutors, yes, yes. But in your junior year, you were suspended from school for an entire month—”

“I’d really rather not talk about that,” I had said a bit coldly. I suppose I should have known she would bring that up.

She had stared at me for the longest time. Finally, she sighed and shut the folder. “Mr. Harding, since you were proven completely innocent of all the charges leveled against you, then I am inclined to give you a chance. However, you must know that I will keep an eye on you from now on. If you put a single toe out of line, I will not hesitate to impose the proper sanction and make a note to Coleridge to reject your candidacy for valedictorian. This is not Coleridge High and it is not in your father’s pocket. Even if it were, your father’s already made it clear that you are not to receive any kind of special treatment. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Ma’am,” I had replied solemnly. I’d been in her school less than an hour and I was already receiving ultimatums.

“All right, then. But first, would you care to provide an explanation for your absence yesterday?”

Well, that had been a stupid question since my crutches were leaning right against her desk.

“I broke my ankle.”

“Of course,” she sniffed.

I had sighed and fished some notes out of my jacket pocket and smoothed the pieces of paper on her desk. “Here’s a not from my aunt and another from my doctor. Oh, and just in case I get asthma attacks, my aunt also wrote what medicine I take, how to take it, and—”

“I’ll see that the school nurse gets a copy of this,” she had abruptly cut me off, looking slightly irritated.

Score one for me. “May I go now?”

“Yes. Here. Take the late pass. And remember what we talked about.”

So here I was, ten minutes late and a bit confused. Not to mention having a hard time juggling books, crutches, and papers. And naturally I dropped the books in the hallway.

I glared at my left leg sullenly and tried to bend down. Not a good idea on only one foot. Outside of sporting events, I have always been strangely clumsy, so I wasn’t at all surprised when everything else in my hands fell and scattered all over the corridor.

But what happened next made everything a whole lot worse.