Mrs. Morrell is the study hall teacher. I mean, she's not really a teacher. She's actually a lady that was hired to sit that hour with

kids and monitor them while they do their work. She's not very strict, though, and some of the kids seem to spend more time goofing off than

they do doing any work.

So, when I went into the study hall, Mrs. Morrell was sitting at the desk at the front of the room. She nodded to me.

"Harlie?" she asked in question. "How are you?"

"Fine," I said.

"Sit anywhere you like," she said, waving a hand towards the chairs and desks.

I went to sit down at a desk near the windows.

The room began to fill up with kids.

"Hullo there, Harlie,"

My interactions with Megan had been next to nonexistent in the last months. Since Guthrie broke up with her, Megan has worked

her way thru the majority of the male population of our high school. I'd heard she even had a fake i.d. to get into the over 18 clubs.

We hadn't had any classes together, and had different lunch hours, so like I said, I'd had the good fortune to not have any real dealings

with Megan this school year.

Now, here she was, bigger than life, standing beside my desk, as other kids came around, filling up the seats.

"Hello," I said, hoping she'd take that and go across the room. Away from me.

"I thought you had a job, or something," Megan said.

"Yeah," I said. "Or something."

I meant it to sound curt and off-putting, but it didn't seem to faze Megan much.

"And you wanted to leave it, to join study hall?"

"I guess so," I said, and met her eyes with a veiled warning. To leave me be.

"Hmmm," Megan said, her drawl becoming more apparent.

"Everyone take their seats, please," Mrs. Morrell called out. Some kids listened and some just continued to stand, talking, and not

paying her any mind.

I was glad to see Chelsea come in, out of breath from hurrying. There wasn't anything said to her about being late. I waved her

over to me. "Sit over here," I said.

Chelsea, in her typical way, began chattering nonstop to me. That had the benefit of making Megan drift away, to sit elsewhere.

I would say that the hour was eye-opening. It was hard to get anything done, due to Chelsea's constant talking, and the other noise levels

in the room. I did a bit of writing on a school newspaper article. Technically, not homework. I made excuses for myself, this was the first day,

after all.

Mid-way thru the class, a girl that I knew only slightly, that had been sitting with Megan across the room, came nearer and

made a show of sharpening a pencil at the sharpener.

Jacy. That was her name. She paused beside my desk.

She said hello, and I said hello back.

"Do you know my sister?" she asked me. "She's a senior. Grace Wilmurth?"

"I know who she is," I said.

"She's in the work program," Jacy said, somewhat casually, watching me out of her heavily made-up eyes.

I flicked a glance at Megan, who was idly sitting, twirling a long black strand of hair with her finger, and watching.

"That's good," I said, determined not to rise to the bait.

"Yeah. She says she'd never be able to go back to being at school all day again. She said she'd feel like a loser."

I saw red. I did.

"Why don't you go back and sit down," Chelsea told Jacy. "Over there."

I appreciated Chelsea's support, but Jacy only let her eyes flicker over Chelsea in distain. "I wasn't talking to you, Chelsea," she said.

"Well, I'm talking to you," Chelsea returned.

I'd forgotten how scrappy Chelsea could be. We've known each other since second grade, and she's what might be called

a free spirit.

"Chelsea, let it go," I said.

"What's the problem, girls?" Mrs. Morrell called out. She stayed seated at her desk at the front of the classroom, where she was

reading a book.

I did not need this. It was bad enough that Megan was in the classroom, and that Jacy was running her mouth, but now Chelsea

saw an opportunity to scrap. All I could see was Crane's face right now. And Adam's. Lined with disapproval. Anger.

"There's no problem," I said, and bent over my book like I was full-on working.

"Well, all of you need to be doing your work," Mrs. Morrell said.

"Yeah, Jacy, go do your work if you're able to," Chelsea said, with a challenge.

"Chelsea, stop," I said.

Jacy tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the desk in front of my hands. She didn't say anything more, just tapped her

nails like that.

As she walked away, I looked again over at Megan, who was still doing basically nothing, just twirling her hair around a finger.

7

I made my exit after the hour was over as fast as I was able. I grabbed my books from my locker that I needed for homework,

and then headed out to my truck, walking with Lori.

We passed by a group of senior boys, Guthrie and Trent among them.

Lori waved at Trent, and he waved back to her. Guthrie looked my way, and i waved at him, but then, his face stony, turned back to the other boys,

ignoring me. It felt like a punch in the gut to me. Even if Guthrie's mad at me for something, he doesn't ignore me. I mean, not like that. Not

in public.

"What's wrong with Guthrie?" Lori asked, obviously noticing.

"I guess he's mad at me about lunchtime," I said, with a sigh.

"Well, Kristen needs to understand it's hard to have somebody on her case all the time," Lori said, loyally. "Just because she doesn't have

a dad, and her mother doesn't care how she does at school-she doesn't get how it is-to live with pressure."

At that moment, I was grateful for Lori's support. I was. And, I knew her father could be a real-well, a real hardass, sometimes.

He's stricter than Adam or Brian, or even Crane ever were. He never tries to listen to Lori, or understand how she's feeling. I felt a sudden

surge of guilt. About Guthrie. About Kristen. And about how maybe I wasn't appreciating my brothers lately.

I drove home slowly, so slowly that Guthrie caught up with me. I saw him behind me, in my rearview mirror, edging up behind me. There was

room now, on the road leading to our house, and he went around, then slowed until he was driving even with me. His windows were down,

as were mine, and he drove even, and we exchanged looks.

"Do you wanna talk?" I called out to him.

Guthrie shook his head just slightly, and shrugged his shoulders. It wasn't really a No, I didn't think.

"Do you?" I hollered.

"At the house," he hollered back.

Then he nodded, and drove on, around me, down the road towards the ranch.

At the house, instead of parking in my usual spot, I parked next to Guthrie's truck. He was still sitting in his truck cab, though he'd shut off

the engine. I sighed. It was obvious that I had to go to him.

I got out of my truck, and stepped the few feet to his, opening the passenger door and climbing up in.

We sat in a silence for a few moments.

"I'm sorry, Guth," I said.

"Sorry about what?" he asked.

"For telling you it wasn't your business, and all that."

"You hurt Kristen's feelin's," Guthrie said. Quiet-like.

A wave of shame rolled over me.

"I'll talk to her," I said. "I'll call her tonight."

"She's got enough problems without you jumpin' all over her," Guthrie said.

"Alright, Guthrie," I said. "You've made your point."

He gave me a look, full of censure. It cut me to the quick. Easy tears sprang to my eyes.

Guthrie hardly does this. Gets on the big brother wagon, I mean. Reading the Riot Act to me.

I wished like anything that he wasn't doing it now.

"I'll call her," I said, again.

"Okay," Guthrie said.

There was silence again, for a bit.

"It is hard sometimes," I said. "With Crane, I mean."

"You think I don't know that?" he demanded.

"I know you do," I began. "It's just-"

"It's just you think it's worse right now, because of bein' thrown out of the work program and all that," Guthrie said.

I winced inwardly. Guthrie wasn't pulling any punches.

"Crane will ease off," Guthrie said, sounding less forceful, and more gentle. "Once you get yourself straightened out, and your grades

are okay, then he won't be on your back all the time."

"Yeah," I said, dully.

Adam rode up on horseback, from one of the pastures, with Evan behind him.

He waved to both Guthrie and I, and Guthrie waved back.

"I better get goin' on my chores," Guthrie said, and put his hand on the door handle.

"Megan's in my study hall," I said, and Guthrie paused, looking at me.

"She is?"

I nodded. "And her friend, Jacy," I added. "Megan's just as lovely as ever," I said, with sarcasm.

Guthrie just gave a light shrug. "She won't change, Har. It's just the way she is."

He got out, and I sighed, and got out, too, as Adam was dismounting his horse, and we walked over to him.

"Hey, kids," he greeted us.

Guthrie said hello and talked for a couple of minutes to Adam, then went off to change his clothes for choring. Adam was studying me, with a serious look on his

face.

"How'd your day go?" he asked me, pulling off his work gloves.

"It was alright," I said, meeting his eyes, and then I added, "Mostly."

"It'll take a while," he said. "To settle in. Get your bearings."

I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to be happy with me. To gather me up and hug me.

He patted my back. Just for a moment.

"Give it some time," he said.

7