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couldn’t stop. “Her mother . . .” Kay’s throat
felt suddenly dry and she swallowed before finishing. “. . . moved
a great deal.”
    No matter how many years had passed,
whenever she remembered that dark-haired girl with the darting eyes
and the nervous mouth, her whole body reacted like she was coming
down with something.
    “ That makes these results
even more fascinating.” He put the papers on the desk and leaned
back in his chair. It squeaked under his bulk. “They are off the
charts.”
    “ I can arrange for a tutor,”
Kay said.
    The principal sat up and put his
elbows on his desk. “I’m afraid you don’t understand. Shawna scored
extremely high on her tests. Her verbal, math, and reading scores
are impressive. Her essay was,” he glanced at Shawna, “very adult
and shows a sophisticated level of writing ability. She doesn’t
need a tutor. In fact, she could be a tutor around
here.”
    Kay looked at Shawna, whose face she
knew and whose sticky moods and bad language she was trying to
manage. Now she studied that face, mining for the brilliance this
school’s tests had revealed. “I’m surprised, of course, but very
pleased. What do we do about someone with ‘off-the-chart’ test
scores?”
    “ She’s a candidate for the
advanced placement program. We have an AP Coordinator here, so I’ll
arrange a meeting. We’ll see that she’s challenged. And we should
probably get her started as soon as possible.” He looked at Shawna,
who was biting her thumbnail to the quick. “Are you ready for the
first day in your new high school?"
     

Chapter 16
    Shawna
     
    I don’t say a word while Robby and
Granny discuss me. When he asks me if I’m ready to go to school, I
want to shout, “Dumb question.” This is like the tenth school I’ve
been to in the last three years, and they’re all the same to me:
The prissy blonds look out from eyeballs they’ve chilled in the
fridge before class, and they won’t talk to each other until you
pass them in the hall; then they lay you out. The jocks just
released from a field or a court want to paw you, and then put you
down when you don’t roll over panting. The gangs are really
terrific minefields, and then there’re the nerds. I feel like
asking, “You got some level of hell I can go to? I’ll take one of
those, please.”
    Instead, I zip it and I follow Mr.
Rolly-Poly Robby down the corridor, wondering how Kay knows him so
well, and if that’s going to work for or against me in this school.
When I step into the AP English class, the teacher sticks a piece
of paper into one hand and a book into the other and points to a
seat. I’m just in time to write a thirty-minute essay.
    I’m glad I’m not rolling
dice today, with the kind of luck I’m having. A principal on a
first-name basis with Granny and a timed essay. I suck in my cheeks and bite
down.
    I get a back seat, which is good and
not so good. The good part is I can sit with my back to the wall
and nobody behind me. The not-so-good part is I have to walk down
the whole row with all those eyes staring up into my face. Nerd,
nerd, two sets of icy blue eyes, one jock, and—uh oh, one category
I forgot—a troll.
    More luck. I get to sit in the back
with a troll for company. Oh well, it could be worse. But then,
when I sit down, I get a closer look at the girl’s ferret-stare and
catch a whiff of that loamy smell. Trolls don’t know about
soap.
    I glance up at the teacher, Mrs.
Heady. She’s been around chalk dust a long time. She’s also
embraced Sweet River’s dress code. I never knew they made whole
dresses out of plaid. Pencils sprout from the back of her head like
spores seeking light, and every once in a while she reaches back,
plucks one out, scribbles a note, then tucks the pointed end back
into her coiled braid. She makes it hard for me to concentrate on
the essay, but I finally manage to shut her out and read the
question.
    “ It is easier to tell the
truth than to tell a lie. Do you