CHAPTER 2: October—Jason

It was the first Friday in October. I arrived at school and parked my motor scooter.

In Chorus, Mr. Metz announced that our Christmas concert was ten weeks away, so we'd be getting our music that day. As each piece of music was handed to me, I put it in my folder, and the folder in the designated area. In fact, one of the pieces of music we got was "Do They Know It's Christmas?" from 1984. I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Metz decided to give me one of the solos.

Second period was math with none of my BSC friends. Third period was science with Mary Anne and Dawn. I sat behind Dawn, and gave her my homework to turn in. "Thanks," she whispered, smiling that gorgeous smile of hers.

"You got it," I answered.

Fourth period was English with Kristy and Mary Anne. We gave our journals to Ms. Peters, who was going to grade them over the weekend, then return them to us on Monday.

Fifth period was study hall with Kristy, Mary Anne, and Logan. We worked on our homework, but I mostly thought about the Christmas concert.

At lunch time, the four of us sat at our usual table. Today's lunch was a cheeseburger, tater tots, corn, and milk. By the way, the school's milk is the nastiest-tasting crap under the sun, so I usually either bring a juice box from home, or get a can of soda from the vending machine. I'm glad to say that the cafeteria food here is slightly better than at SMS or my old school on Long Island. In fact, I haven't packed my lunch a single day since the first day of school last year. Well, except for when they were having something I didn't like, or when I didn't have the money for lunch.

"So, what's new with you guys?" Kristy asked, opening her milk.

"Well, the Christmas concert is ten weeks away," I said, dipping a tater tot in some ketchup.

"Hey, great!" Logan said, taking a bite of corn.

Mary Anne smiled at me. I could tell that she was remembering when I'd played the male lead in Carnival at SMS about a couple of years ago.

The rest of the day flew by. I had seventh period World Geography with Kristy, Claud, Mary Anne, and Logan. Eighth period French was last, although with none of my BSC friends. Oh, well—or, as the French say, c'est la vie. (By the way, Kristy's probably going to kill me for saying this, but that was one of the things she and Cary Retlin said to each other when they broke up last spring.)

After school, I got on my bike, picked Bebe up at SMS, and dropped her off at the Kormans', then went to the Papadakises' for a baby-sitting job. Today, eleven-year-old Linny would be hanging out with Kristy's brother, David Michael—or DM, as Bebe and I call him—and Mrs. Papadakis was taking four-year-old Sari to the dentist, so there would be just nine-year-old Hannie, who happens to be friends with Karen Brewer, Kristy's stepsister. Like Karen, she always comes up to me wanting a hug.

Sure enough, when I got to their house, that's exactly what happened. But this time, instead of being her usual, happy self, she was a little quieter than usual. In case you're wondering, it is possible for little kids to be quiet. Why else do you think adults keep reminding them to use their indoor voices?

"Is something wrong, Hannie?" I asked as Mrs. Papadakis and Sari pulled out of the driveway. As soon as I asked that, she burst into tears. To be honest with you, I thought I was going to have to spend the whole afternoon just consoling her.

I led Hannie over to the couch and sat on the arm. "Hannie," I said, putting my hands on her shoulders. "Hannie, look at me, please."

Hannie wiped her eyes and looked up at me. Her dark brown eyes were red, puffy, and streaming with tears. "What's wrong?"

"N—Noodle," she sobbed.

"Your dog?" I asked. She nodded. "What happened to her, darling?"

"Sh—she died," Hannie said in a trembling voice. "Linny and I came home from school and found her in the backyard. Mom said she was very old, and in very bad shape, probably worse than Louie."

"Who's Louie?"

"Kristy's collie," Hannie explained, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. I stood up, and we went outside and sat on the front doorstep. "They had to put him down about a couple of years ago."

She sounded relatively calm, but she started crying again. "At least Kristy's family got to say good-bye to Louie! I didn't even get a chance to say good-bye to Noodle! None of us did! It's just not fair, Jason! Why did this have to happen?"

"Oh, Hannie, shh," I whispered as she flung her arms around my neck. I held her and we rocked back and forth as she sobbed into my shoulder. No wonder Mrs. Papadakis needed a sitter. It wasn't just because she had some errands to run, but she also needed someone to be there for her kids, and to help them through such a painful loss.