18

NAME: HUGH WINKLEMAN

I was the first dropout from Cap's morning tai chi group. Literally.

Not that I'd ever been the star of the class. Two left feet weren't exactly an asset in martial arts, but I was Cap's first friend. I wore my tie-dyes proudly, secure in the knowledge that I had more right than anybody. After all, who hung out with Cap before he ever drove a bus, or masterminded a dance?

So, there I was, waving my arms and hopping around like a turkey amped up on Mountain Dew, when the planted foot was kicked out from under me. It was so sudden, so devastating, that to this day, I have no idea who did it to me. Darryl Pennyfield is my prime suspect, because he was close by, but I didn't catch him in the act. One minute, I was upright—the next, I was on the grass, rolling. To the other kids in the group, it must have looked like I'd just vanished into thin air.

Were my deepest, darkest fears coming true? This was a great school year because Cap was taking the heat off me, but he wasn't a target anymore. Target, heck, he was practically a celebrity! It was the bus-driving thing that started it. When your whole world is a cheesy, prepackaged rehearsal for being alive, like high school, a kid your own age (or younger) who can pilot a twenty-ton bus is impressive. Plus, the fact that he had potentially saved dozens of lives that day, obviously. Now people were treating the eighth-grade president like—well, like an eighth-grade president. Someone who was admired and popular, a student leader who took an active role in the school.

And that was great—for Cap. But what did it mean for me? Was I back in the crosshairs because he was out of them? Only time would tell.

Of all the newly minted Cap fans, the biggest surprise had to be Naomi Erlanger. She was with that whole Zach Powers crew, and not as a hanger-on either. She was part of the inner circle, Lena's best friend. That was royalty around here.

Needless to say, I didn't know her well. Steering clear of that crowd was a good way to avoid being dangled by my ankles over a toilet bowl, but I'd heard that she had a big crush on Zach. And let's face it, if the rumor had made it down to my lowly rung on the ladder, you had to figure it was all over the school.

So, what was her sudden fascination with Cap? She was a star pupil of his tai chi group; she was constantly turning up at his locker to show him a new peace-sign bracelet she'd bought, or a magazine article on Vietnam or the Beatles or anything about the sixties. Come to think of it, hers had been the first face at the door after the PA announcement on tie-dyeing day. The junior high wing was on the opposite end of the building from the art room, so she must have sprinted the entire distance.

Of course, she was still one of the beautiful people, so when I spotted her, flanked by Lena and Darryl, coming our way in the hall before homeroom, I was on my guard.

"Hi, Cap. Hi, Sophie," Naomi greeted us. Another thing about Naomi: I was invisible to her. Either that or I was like Cap's pet ferret—a subhuman companion, undeserving of attention. "We're walking in the March of Caring this weekend, and we need sponsors."

Darryl looked me up and down, a threatening expression on his face. "It's for a really good cause."

I pulled a pair of crumpled dollar bills from my pocket. It made no difference to me if the money was going to support throwing puppies off thirty-story office towers. This wasn't a charitable donation. I was purchasing wedgie insurance, and Darryl was Allstate.

"Sorry it can't be more."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Darryl snatched the money out of my hand and passed it on to Lena as Sophie rolled her eyes at him.

"Quit pushing Hugh around, punk," she muttered. I was surprised to see her actually coming to my defense for the first time. "You little squirts better use that money for its proper purpose."

I was delighted to see Darryl's expression change from one of smug satisfaction to mild apprehension. "Thanks, Sophie," I blurted out.

Naomi's worshipful eyes ignored us, never leaving the eighth-grade president. "What do you say, Cap?"

He took out the checkbook and began writing on it.

I frowned. "Isn't that the school's money?"

"Mr. Kasigi said to spend it responsibly. What could be more responsible than giving to charity?"

"Paying for the junior high dance," I replied. "That's what it's supposed to be for."

He was serene. "I've been inside that bank, Hugh. They've got plenty of money for everything." He tore off the check and handed it to Naomi.

She took one look at it and let out a shriek that raised the roof clean off the school.

Lena gawked over her shoulder. "A thousand dollars?"

"What?" Sophie wheeled on Cap. "Are you fucking nuts? You can't give away that much!"

"Rain says there should be no limit on giving," he lectured serenely. "Only taking."

"She's not the one Kasigi's going to fucking strangle—"

But Sophie's words were lost in the excited buzz as students flocked around to investigate the source of Naomi's scream. Lena took the check from her and held it up for the crowd. There were oohs and aahs.

"You're fucking awesome, Cap!" Naomi cried emotionally. "Awesome!"

Darryl nodded fervently. "You're the man!"

Suddenly, all the junior high kids were clapping and cheering. I was blown away. Sophie and the senior high kids stood there speechless, and I could see why. They had come to the same realization as me- not one of these middle school idiots had the faintest idea that Cap's donation was coming straight out of the budget for our Halloween dance.

I wanted to scream: Look at the check! The school's name is printed right on it! This money is yoursmineall of ours!

That was when I experienced a moment of stunning understanding. Popularity had nothing to do with the truth. If these kids took a minute to ask themselves where Cap got off writing thousand-dollar checks, they'd be rioting, not applauding. But what really mattered was image. The eighth-grade president was a star now. Nobody questioned it when he did something wonderful, because that's exactly what was expected of him.

All the adulation must have been overwhelming to someone like Cap, who was so accustomed to peace and quiet. He pushed his way through a barrage of high fives and ducked into the bathroom. I followed him, struggling with my own feelings about this. I wanted to be happy for the man, but why? Because he did something stupid? His entire rise to fame seemed bizarre. Random. Dumb.

"Must be nice," was all I could think of muttering.

"It is nice," he agreed in wonder. "I couldn't have imagined how good it feels when so many people like you."

I recoiled as if he'd slapped me. Being liked was a feeling I didn't know, that I might never know. And to have that rubbed in my face by my one kindred spirit, the only person around who was more of an outsider than I was—it was the ultimate insult.

I didn't care if he grew up on Pluto, let alone some hippie commune. To say that to me—someone who'd never experienced a popular minute, much less a popular day—was beyond cruel. Nothing could have made me feel worse than I did at that instant.

The door was flung mightily open, and into the boys' room burst Naomi, her face pink with daring. She threw her arms around Cap and pressed a long kiss right on his mouth.

Cap was so shocked that he crumpled against the stall door when she let go.

"To be continued," she said meaningfully, and ran out of the bathroom.

I glowered at him through eyes that were barely slits. Hero status wasn't good enough for him anymore. He had to be a heartthrob too.

I was finished with Capricorn Anderson.