Also Known as Rowan Pohi (9 page)

"My name is Dr. Kokoris," a teacher began. He was in his late fifties, with a shock of white hair that made me think of Einstein. "Every day, in this room, I will create the universe and its galaxies in a manner not unlike God Himself."

The other kids giggled.

"What were God's first words?" Dr. Kokoris demanded.

To my horror, I realized that he was pointing directly at me.

"Ah, umm...'Let there be light'?" I guessed.

Dr. Kokoris grinned. "This young man knows his Genesis! Yes, those were God's first four words:
Let there be light!
And those are the first words I will say every morning as we begin to explore celestial worlds. To do so, we will rely on powerful telescopes that will transport us billions of light-years away."

To this, a boy behind me cracked: "All the way to Uranus."

Someone laughed. Dr. Kokoris whirled around and glared suspiciously at me.

"This planetarium cost more than twenty-five million dollars, so you must take very good care of it," he declared. "You
will
take care of it, understand? No eating. No drinking. No chewing gum. No putting your feet up on another seat. No
breathing
without my permission."

More giggles.

"Remember: in this planetarium I am God, and I will find you," Dr. Kokoris concluded. He paused to clear his throat. "Now, let's take her out for a little spin, shall we?"

The room went dark. I tilted my seat back farther just as a tiny blue spot appeared on the black screen. It grew larger and larger until I could see it was the Earth. This was followed by an asteroid incinerating itself as it plummeted to Earth. Soon all sorts of weird nebulae, galaxies, white dwarfs, black holes, shooting stars were flashing across the expanse above us. It ended with some mind-boggling photos showing what Kokoris called star nurseries, or EGGs ("evaporating gaseous globules"), where new stars were being born.

"That Dr. Kokoris has a God complex," I muttered as we filed out.

Robin smiled. "If so, he's found the perfect job."

 

My first-period class was English. There were only fifteen students. I took a seat next to a tall kid with short, frosted hair. The English teacher introduced himself as Mr. Nardone.

"In tenth-grade English we will be reading and discussing lots of great literature," Nardone began. "We'll start the year with
To Kill a Mockingbird.
"

The tall kid next to me glanced over and caught my eye.

"I read that book over the summer."

"Like it?" I whispered.

"Do you like Chinese water torture?" he replied.

After English I had Spanish, which was
much
harder than anything I'd had at Riverview.
Señor
Backman spoke in nothing but rapid Spanish; I understood about 10 percent of what he said. I was the only boy in the room. The class was jammed with nerdy girls who looked like they had nothing better to do every night than study for umpteen hours. For the first time, I got a sinking feeling, like I was in way over my head.

It was a relief to go from Spanish to biology. Heather Reardon sent me a wink from the far side of the room as Mr. Rasmussen passed out the syllabus. Biology seemed like it would be manageable. In fact, except for Spanish, the classes at White-stone didn't seem like they'd be too hard, so long as I kept myself organized and didn't get behind in my assignments. Actually, the classes weren't much different from Riverview's except there were fewer kids in each class, and the teachers smiled more.

The chicken fingers they served for lunch were phenomenally tasty; I had to force myself not to eat too fast. The kids at the other end of the table all knew each other and chattered nonstop. I wondered how long it would take for me to make a few friends.

When the other kids got up to leave, I still wasn't done. As I was eating my final chicken finger, I became aware of two guys at a nearby table staring at me. I did my best to ignore them.

"You should avoid fried foods."

I glanced up to find that one of the kids who'd been staring at me was standing by my table. He was tall and wiry, with an earring and a spray of acne on his chin. Another boy stood behind him.

"I'm Seth. This is Brogan." He peered down skeptically. "Who be you?"

"Rowan."

"Yeah? Rowan what?"

"Rowan Pohi."

Seth grinned at Brogan. "Rowan Pohi."

Brogan nodded. "Nice."

"You from around here?" Seth asked.

I shook my head. "Nope. Arizona."

Seth turned to Brogan again. "Arizona!"

Brogan smiled. "Nice."

Seth snatched a french fry off my plate.

"Hey!"

"Oops, sorry," Seth said. "I honestly dunno why I did that. My mommy taught me it's wrong to steal."

It was eerie the way his voice lingered on that word
steal.
Now he leaned forward and brought his face close to mine.

"I've seen you before, Rowan Pohi."

Something kicked in my gut. "I doubt it."

"Oh, but I have." Seth gave me an unpleasant smile. "And you better be careful. Consider this my first warning."

He snatched another fry off the plate.

I jumped up. "You touch my food again, I'll shove my fist up your nose."

Wiggling his fingers in mock dread, Seth strolled away, with Brogan close behind.

I
GOT A TEXT LATER THAT AFTERNOON WHILE I WAS UP IN MY
bedroom reading the first pages of
To Kill a Mockingbird.

How R U?

Heather. I was glad for the distraction, so I texted her back. A moment later my cell phone rang.

"What are you doing?" Heather asked.

"I'm reading
To Mock a Killingbird,
for English. Have you read it? It's brutal."

She giggled. "Hey, Rowan, remind me: what's that girl's name we were talking to this morning? Mona?"

"No, Robin," I said.

"Oh yeah. I'm going to buy that girl some smiley pills."

"I guess she is sort of solemn," I admitted, "but she seems okay."

Heather began telling me about the horse farm her family owned in upstate New York. She described the horses, one by one, explaining their personalities in great detail.

"Onyx would be perfect for you to ride," she told me. "She's very cool. A real sweetheart. You'll fall in love with her."

I laughed nervously. "If I don't kill myself first."

"You'll be a natural," she insisted. "I can just tell."

At that moment my phone started beeping, low battery, so we had to say goodbye. After that, I plugged in my phone to recharge it. I was surprised to see that we'd been talking for almost an hour.

At supper that night I asked Cody how he liked kindergarten.

"It's pretty good, but not all the way awesome."

"How come?"

"You can't run outside—you have to walk real slow," he complained. "And you can't tackle kids on the playground."

"It's not summer camp," my father said gruffly. "The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be."

Cody's face grew sad; for a second I thought he might start to cry. "Why are you being so mean, Daddy?"

"It's school," my father said. "It's not supposed to be all about fun and games—you're there to learn."

Lightly, I jabbed Cody on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it."

After we cleaned up the dishes, I started working on my Spanish homework. My phone began to vibrate. Another text message, this one from Big Poobs.

Poobs: U got marked absent

Me: ?

Poobs: They called yr name. Bobby Steele. RemMbR?

I texted back—LMAO—though I wasn't laughing.

The next morning brought a steady rain, so I got wet running from the bus stop into the school building. I made a mental note to buy one of those little fold-up umbrellas I could tuck in my backpack.

"Rowan!"

Ms. Ryder approached. She was cradling a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Rowan. How have things been going?"

"Fine. Great."

"I'm glad to hear that, but I still haven't received transcripts from your previous high school."

"Oh, really?" I tried to think. "Yeah, well, nothing happens very fast in that part of Arizona."

"I know, but I really need those transcripts."

"I called the school," I told her. "The secretary promised she'd send them along in the next week or so."

She nodded. "Hopefully they'll send them soon."

My wet Whitestone shirt didn't dry as fast as I expected; I shivered through the first few periods. There was a quiz in English followed by another difficult Spanish class.

"Homework is on the board,"
Señor
Backman reminded us as the bell rang. "
Señor
Pohi,
¿podría hablar con usted?
"

I glanced up. "Huh?"

"Could I please have a word with you?"

So I gathered my stuff and stopped at Backman's desk. He was a young guy, maybe thirty, with a shock of short black hair.

"You didn't say very much in class today,
Señor
Pohi."

"I know."

He tapped a pen on his desk. "You received the syllabus, didn't you? Half of your grade is based on class participation."

"I was a little lost today," I admitted.

"Maybe you're in the wrong class. Maybe you should be in Spanish One."

"I took Spanish One last year," I said. Which was true.

He blinked at me, not mercilessly, but not with a whole lot of sympathy either. "The language program here at Whitestone is probably a lot stronger than what you had at your previous school. You're going to have to show me you belong in this class. Right now I'm not convinced.
¿Entiende?
"

"
Sí,
" I replied.

Heather sat next to me in biology. The large room was divided into two parts: regular desks, and a lab area where we would be dissecting and doing other experiments. Mr. Rasmussen announced that the first unit would be on insects that mimic other insects. At Riverview, teachers spent half the period checking attendance, doing paperwork, and getting the class settled. The teachers at Whitestone didn't waste time like that; they all got right down to business.

Rasmussen began by showing a series of images: bees that mimic ants; beetles camouflaged to look like leaves; walking sticks; katydids; and several others.

"Why would insects mimic or imitate other insects?" Rasmussen asked, snapping on the lights. "I'll give you two minutes to think about that. Make a list of possible reasons why. Speculate. In science, a speculation is an educated guess. We will be doing a lot of scientific speculation in this class."

The class grew quiet.

"All right, let's see what you came up with," Rasmussen said exactly two minutes later. "Miss Reardon?"

"Competition for food and avoiding predators," she said. "I couldn't come up with anything else."

"That's a good start. How about you, Mr.... Pohi, isn't it?" He studied his class sheet. "Why might one insect want to mimic others of a different species?"

"Just to fit in," I said, which seemed obvious.

Rasmussen folded his arms. "Say more about that, Rowan."

"Well, it's like what she said about predators," I said. "You're either trying to eat them, or avoid being eaten by them, so if you can somehow trick them into thinking you're one of them, well, you have a better chance of surviving."

I was eerily aware that I was also talking about myself.

"It's like wearing a disguise," I continued. "You don't want to be different from the group. You want to fit in. If they knew you were different, it would be dangerous."

Rasmussen nodded. "What about sex?"

I felt the whole class staring. Why was he picking on me?

"What about it?" I finally managed.

Everybody laughed, including Heather. I wanted to laugh too, but I was too embarrassed.

Rasmussen smiled. "Could you speculate? Put yourself in their place. If you were an insect, what impact could mimicking another insect have on your sex life?"

I wasn't going near that one. I was relieved when he stepped back to address the class.

"For homework tonight, I'm giving you an article to read on this subject," Rasmussen said. "A very
steamy
article."

"I doubt that," Heather muttered.

Right before lunch I ran into Robin and told her what
Señor
Backman had said about maybe I didn't belong in Spanish Two.
She offered to help me with Spanish. We met in a small library conference room right after school. It was sealed-in and private, with windows looking out to the rest of the library. Robin began by quizzing me on verb tenses: present, past, conditional. It was the future that gave me the most trouble.

"I will go," she said.

"
Vamos a ir,
" I guessed.

She shook her head. "Voy
a ir. Vamos
is for
we.
Let's try another. How would you say
I will play?
"

I didn't really know, but I took a stab. "
Voy a leer.
"

"Wrong-o.
Voy a jugar.
" She frowned at me. "Rowan."

I winced. "I know, I know."

"You have to learn this stuff now or you'll get buried," she persisted. "Look at the verbs on pages a hundred and one and a hundred and two, and memorize them."

"Okay."

We worked for the next half-hour. Then, through the glass window, we saw a girl with long red hair stroll past. I don't think she realized we were looking at her. She stopped and lifted herself on tiptoes, searching for a book on the upper shelf. The girl was absurdly beautiful. Honestly, she could have been a model. I tried not to stare, especially with Robin sitting there.

Robin sighed. "It's hard being ordinary in a school with so many beauties walking around."

"Braces," I declared. "I'll bet you twenty bucks every one of these girls has had braces. That's the secret. Having perfect teeth helps a lot."

Her eyes were mournful. "It's a lot more than that."

"Anyway, who cares?" I smiled. "I don't mind. Being ordinary, I mean."

"I hate to break it to you, but you're not ordinary." She sounded testy. "You're a bit of a babe."