“I see you did not heed my warning, Simon Thorn.”
Simon whirled around. Perched on a branch over his head was the golden eagle from his fire escape. “What was I supposed to do? It’s the first day of school.”
“Some things are far more important.” The eagle flew down and settled on a bench featuring a bronze plaque. “You must come with me immediately, Simon—for your own safety.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have wings,” said Simon. “How do you know my name?”
“Because,” the eagle said with a long-suffering sigh, “your mother told me.”
Out of all the things the eagle could have said, this was the one Simon least expected. “You—you know my mother?”
“Indeed,” said the eagle. “If you would come with me—”
A snarl cut through the crisp air. Startled, the eagle took flight, and Simon cursed. “Wait—come back!”
But the eagle had already disappeared. Muttering to himself, Simon glanced into the bushes for the source of the sound. Before he could spot anything, a chorus of snickers started behind him.
“Talking to animals again, Psycho?”
Simon’s blood ran cold. Bryan Barker and his gang of eighth graders. They were the biggest, meanest boys in school, and Bryan, with his broad shoulders and towering height that had come out of nowhere two summers ago, was the biggest and meanest of them all. He was practically guaranteed to be named captain of the wrestling team, and getting on his good side was exactly why Colin wanted to join. As far as Simon saw it, Bryan had no good side.
Without looking back, Simon hurried down the path, hoping they would leave him alone. But their footsteps grew louder, and he could sense them surrounding him. No matter how fast he ran, they would be faster, and trying to get away would only give them an excuse to turn him into dog meat.
“Answer me, Psycho.” Simon felt something bounce off his backpack—a rock or a stick. “Or did you forget how to speak human?”
Two boys cut in front of him and stopped, leaving Simon no room to escape. He whirled around. “If you don’t let me go, we’re all going to be late for—”
A pale boy with a round face peeked out from behind Bryan, and Simon wilted. “Colin?”
He was the only boy in seventh grade who was shorter than Simon. He wore thick glasses, and his eyebrows were set high on his forehead, making him look as shocked to see Simon as Simon was to see him. Colin said nothing though, staring at the ground instead.
Simon didn’t care that he was surrounded by the four toughest boys in school. All he could focus on was the fact that his supposed best friend couldn’t even look him in the eye. “I thought you were going to wait for me at the corner.”
“Is it true, Colin? Is Psycho Simon your boyfriend?” said Bryan, and the other boys laughed. Colin turned a deep shade of red.
“He’s—he’s not even my friend,” he stammered. “He’s crazy.”
Colin might as well have punched Simon in the gut. As much as Simon had been dreading it, hearing Colin confirm his worst fear made the world tilt, and he swallowed a hard lump in his throat.
“Don’t cry, Psycho. I’m sure the rats still like you,” said Bryan. The older boys’ laughs ripped through him as they each shoved him in turn while they passed. Simon didn’t fight back. Instead he looked at Colin, who trudged after them, weighed down by five backpacks.
“Colin—” he started, but Bryan Barker made kissing noises, and Colin’s face grew redder.
“M’sorry,” mumbled Colin, and he walked away.
Not caring whether he was late anymore, Simon stayed glued to the spot on the path until their laughter faded. He wanted to think Colin would change his mind once he saw how terrible Bryan really was, but he already knew. They both knew. And now Simon was alone.
At last he dragged himself the rest of the way through the park, his head buzzing with their taunts. Over and over he tried to convince himself they didn’t matter. Bryan didn’t matter. Colin didn’t matter.
They did matter though, and Simon ducked his head as he walked up the empty concrete stairway leading to the school. By now, half the students probably knew what had happened in the park, and he considered not going inside. But the thought of how upset and disappointed Darryl would be made him climb the last few steps. He couldn’t do that to his uncle. Bryan Barker would forget about him eventually, and even if he didn’t, at least he couldn’t get much worse.
“Simon!”
A hair-raising screech rose above the noise from the street, and Simon spun around. The golden eagle perched on a street sign nearby, staring straight at him.
Simon narrowed his eyes. Everything that had happened in the park was the eagle’s fault. If he had just left Simon alone, Bryan Barker wouldn’t have overheard their conversation, and maybe Simon would have had a chance at a good year.
He turned his back on the eagle and disappeared into the school. If the eagle wanted something from him, he would come back soon enough. Right now the only thing Simon could think about was exactly how bad today was going to be, and how he was going to survive it.
2
ANIMAL INSTINCTS
By the time Simon left his first class, it seemed like every seventh grader at Kennedy Middle School had heard about what happened in the park. Even a group of sixth graders taunted him as he passed, and one boy stuck out his foot to trip him. Simon staggered forward, barely managing to catch himself before he fell.
“Watch it,” said the boy. “These shoes are new.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t stick them in front of people,” said Simon. Before the boy could retaliate, Simon bolted down the hall.
As the hours wore on he felt smaller and smaller, until he might as well have been nothing at all. By the time the lunch bell rang, Simon couldn’t walk down the hallway without kissing sounds following him, and he sat down at the only empty table in the cafeteria, right next to the trash cans. He pulled out his book and unwrapped the sandwich his uncle had packed, and laughter exploded from Bryan Barker’s table. Simon glanced up long enough to see Colin sitting there, eagerly hanging on Bryan’s every word. Simon bit his lip and looked back down at his book, trying to ignore them.
Without so much as a hello, a girl with long dark hair sat down in the chair beside him. Simon froze. There were plenty of empty seats at other tables—and at his, too—but she was close enough that he could smell her hair over the peanut butter in his sandwich.
He started to edge away. Before he could move too far, however, the girl pulled a book from her backpack. It was exactly the same as the one Simon held. Opening to a marked page, she began to read.
Simon hesitated. Was she new? He was sure he’d never seen her before. Besides, no one in their right mind would sit with him today—it was social suicide. The kind thing to do would have been to move so that Bryan didn’t see them together, but after the morning Simon had had, the possibility of talking to someone who didn’t think he was a freak was too tempting to pass up. So before he could stop himself, he turned toward her.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Simon.”
“And I’m reading,” said the girl without looking up.
His cheeks warmed. “Sorry.” She must have known about him after all. But while he busied himself with pulling the crust off his sandwich, she spoke again.
“I’m Winter,” she said. “But I’m still reading.”
She glanced up, and Simon noticed that her eyes were the lightest green he’d ever seen. He wanted to say something else, to show her that he was reading the same book, but he didn’t want to scare her away. For now, he stayed quiet.
Opening his own copy, he noticed a piece of paper stuck between the pages. It was a note from Darryl. His uncle never wrote him notes, but there it was, written in his familiar sharp scrawl.
Good luck today. Proud of you. Don’t forget to show them your teeth.
Simon reread it twice. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him smile
, and he tucked the scrap of paper back between the pages of his book.
“Whatcha got there, Psycho? A love letter from your boyfriend?”
Bryan Barker snatched the book from his hands. Simon protested and made a grab for it, but Bryan held it out of reach. Flipping through the pages, he found the note and pulled it out.
“Dear Psycho,” he read loudly enough for the entire lunchroom to hear. “I love you more than the moon and the stars. Thinking of you. Hugs and kisses. Love, your boo bear.”
Bryan’s gang roared with laughter. Colin, who stood behind Bryan, turned bright red, but no one was laughing at him. Just Simon.
A knot formed in his chest. It grew hotter and hotter until he almost couldn’t bear it, but he didn’t move. Anything he said would only make it worse.
“Oh, look, he drew you a bunch of hearts and flowers, too. How sweet.” Bryan grinned down at him, and Simon clenched his fists. “Upset, Psycho? Gonna show us your teeth?”
“Would you jerks shut up and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of?” snapped an irritated voice. Winter set down her book and glared at Bryan.
He shoved the note into Simon’s book and tossed it to Colin. “What do we have here? Cheating on your boyfriend with another freak, Psycho?”
“Leave her alone,” said Simon.
Bryan poked him hard in the ribs. “Or what? You’ll go home crying to your mother? Oh, wait. You don’t have one.”
There it was: Bryan’s favorite taunt. Simon refused to react. He concentrated on his breathing instead—in and out, in and out, until the burning knot in his chest started to cool. “Colin, can I have my book back?” he said.
Colin glanced back and forth between him and Bryan. “Sorry, Simon,” he mumbled.
Bryan snorted with laughter, and Simon’s vision narrowed. Colin didn’t matter. Bryan didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Someday he would be Darryl’s size, and no one would bother him again. Someday he would be far away from here, and—
“Are you going to give it back or not?” said Winter. When Colin didn’t move, she stood and snatched the book from him. “Jerk. And you—” She rounded on Bryan. “Is that the best you can do? Coward.”
Bryan turned pink. “You want to see what I’ve got?”
Winter stepped closer. “Go ahead and show me, Ape Face. I dare you.”
Bryan’s mouth contorted with anger, and to Simon’s horror, he shoved her backward. Winter hit the chair hard, and the crack of elbow against metal echoed through the cafeteria.
Simon didn’t stop to think. By the time he realized what he was doing, he had already tackled Bryan to the ground and socked him in the soft spot below his ribs. Bryan cried out, and Simon pulled away, dumbfounded. Where had that come from?
The lunchroom went silent. Simon scrambled to his feet. The other boys closed ranks around them, forming a tight circle and chanting “Fight! Fight! Fight!” But Simon didn’t want to fight. It had been an accident.
“You—are a dead man,” gasped Bryan.
Simon’s head buzzed, and he couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he stupidly offered Bryan his hand. “I’m sorry.”
Bryan grabbed his wrist and yanked him to the ground. Using his knees, he pinned Simon’s legs to the cold floor, still panting. “You think—you can hit me—in front of everyone—and get away with it?”
The burning knot in Simon’s chest was back, trying to claw its way out of him, but it had nowhere to go. “Maybe you shouldn’t attack girls, Ape Face,” he blurted.
“Don’t worry. You’re a much better punching bag, Psycho.”
Bryan shoved his arm against Simon’s throat. His fist connected with Simon’s abdomen, and Simon curled into a ball.
Bryan laughed and pulled back for another punch. On the other side of the room, the vice principal shouted for them to break it up, but Bryan still had time to get in a few more good hits before he reached them. Worse, Simon knew Bryan would never leave him alone after this, and no doubt he would also set his sights on Winter, whose only crime was sticking up for Simon.
Show them your teeth.
That burning knot in his chest exploded, and Simon roared. His hand shot out, his fingers curled into claws, and he swiped his nails against Bryan’s face. Bright red lines sprouted across Bryan’s cheek, and he faltered, his mouth open in shock.
Simon didn’t give him a chance to fight back. He bit down hard on Bryan’s wrist, letting go before he tasted blood.
Bryan howled with pain and scrambled off Simon. “He bit me!” he yelled, clutching his arm. “Psycho bit me!”
Simon sat up and wiped his mouth. Dread coiled in the pit of his aching belly, and he climbed shakily to his feet. “Are you okay?” he said to Winter. She glared at him.
“Why did you do that?”
“I—” Simon stopped. “Do what?”
“Treat me like I’m some sad little girl who needs protection. I don’t need your help.”
Before Simon could respond, the vice principal burst into the circle, his paunch heaving as he wheezed, “My office—both of you—now!”
Taking Simon and Bryan by their elbows, he marched them through the parting crowd. While Bryan shouted that he hadn’t done anything wrong, that he was injured and had to see the school nurse, Simon remained quiet. Darryl was going to be furious, but that was nothing compared to what Bryan would do to him now. If he were lucky, it would be fast and painless, but if there was one thing Simon had learned today, it was that luck was most definitely not on his side.
The show in the cafeteria earned Simon detention for a week. With Bryan. Which meant he would have to deal with more of his taunts for a whole extra hour for five days straight. Simon tried to explain that he’d only been protecting himself and Winter, but the vice principal didn’t seem to have any idea who Winter was.
By the time he was allowed to leave the office, Simon had missed all but his last hour. He stopped in the middle of the hallway. Bryan had gone to see the nurse, and no one else was around to make sure he went the right way. If he didn’t go to class, there was a chance his uncle would find out—but Darryl would hear about the fight before the end of the day regardless. Simon couldn’t possibly get into more trouble than he was already, and facing the other students would be much, much worse than any punishment his uncle could dream up.
Simon turned and dashed out the front door. Though people passed on the sidewalk below, the concrete steps were clear, except for a few pigeons that lingered on the railing.
“Food?” said the nearest one. Simon cringed.
“I don’t have any food, all right? Just leave me alone.”
“You talk to pigeons?”
He whirled around. Winter stood at the top of the steps, right outside the school entrance. “Of course not. I was just talking to myself,” he said. His forgotten backpack sat at her feet. “Where did you get that?”
“Lunchroom. Figured you might need it,” she said. “Do they always treat you so horribly?”
Simon climbed back up the steps. “I’m used to it.”
“No one should have to get used to that.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Simon dug through his backpack. His belongings were all there—even his book with the note tucked between the pages. “Besides, anything I do will make it worse.”
“You weren’t half-bad in that fight, you know. If you wanted to, you could take out those worms without a problem.”
Simon stared at the dried blood underneath his fingernails. He could still feel the burning knot in his chest and the rush of dark satisfaction when it had exploded. No matter how angry he became, he had always been able to suppress it before. So why hadn’t he listened to his gut this time?
But he had listened. That was the problem.
“Why do they call you ‘Psycho Simon,’ anyway?” she added. “You don’t seem psychotic to me. A little weird, maybe, but—”
“I have to get home,” he interrupted. Winter stepped in front of him, bloc
king his path.
“Not until you tell me why they call you that.”
Simon tried to go around her, but she moved with him, and his frustration grew until he snapped, “I don’t know, all right? Because they hate me. Because they want to make my life miserable. Because they think I can talk to animals. I don’t know.”
“So you were talking to the pigeon.”
“Of course not,” he said. “That would be crazy.”
He tried to move past her again, and this time she let him go. Simon stormed down the steps, silently seething. He didn’t need Winter to make fun of him, too.
“Hey, Simon,” she called after he’d joined the crowd on the sidewalk. “You’re not the only one.”
He stopped. “I’m not the only what?” he called, his view of the stairs momentarily blocked by a group of tourists.
But by the time the group passed, she was gone. Weaving through the crowd, he returned to the base of the steps and looked around. Winter was nowhere to be found.
Simon thought about her words as he cut through the corner of Central Park on the way home. Had she meant he wasn’t the only one who was picked on? A small part of him held out hope that she had meant he wasn’t the only one who could talk to animals, but of course that wasn’t it. That was crazy. He was crazy.
When he spotted the bench with the plaque—the same bench where he’d met the eagle that morning—Simon stopped and sat down. Maybe the eagle would return and explain how he knew his mother. It was a long shot, but he couldn’t go home yet anyway, not when a neighbor might spot him and tell his uncle, so instead Simon pulled out his book and waited. It was peaceful in the park, and though a few chatty squirrels stopped long enough to ask him if he’d seen any acorns, for the most part the animals left him alone.