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he says.
    I elbow him in the ribs half-heartedly as we walk away from the school.
    He rubs his side. “Ow! How am I going to explain all the bruises to my mom?”
    “I didn’t leave any marks,” I say.
    Arkin shakes his head and smiles. “You two sound like siblings.”
    I shift my backpack, trying to relax my stride. I don’t want to seem uptight or uneasy around Arkin. Ogden definitely helps me act more like myself. That’s the answer . Be myself. He has to like me for me, … right?
    “Hey, you know what? My dad arrested three enemies yesterday,” Og says. “They were working in the ID department. Can you believe it? They’re actually starting to live in Gideon and pretend to be citizens.”
    “Scary,” I say.
    I glance at Arkin beside me. He stares at the ground with a somber look.
    “What will they do with the enemies?” Arkin asks.
    Og shrugs. “My dad doesn’t talk about that.”
     
    ►▼◄
     
    We study in Arkin’s living room for an hour. Then his father, a stout, balding man with a light brown mustache, arrives. I can’t see the resemblance at all.
    “This must be the famous Raissa Santos,” he says with a smile.
    I jump up from the couch and o ffer my hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
    He shakes my hand firmly. “Arkin has told us a lot about you.”
    Arkin’s cheeks glow, and my heart flutters.
    “Dad,” he groans.
    “My wife should be home any minute now. She teaches at the elementary school up the street. I work for the sanitation department,” Mr. Pettigrew says.
    “My mother works at the soup factory,” I say, surprised at how my tone lacks the usual hint of shame.
    “Arkin mentioned that.”
    When did I tell him where Mom works? I nod anyway.
    The apartment door opens, and Arkin’s mother, a full-figured, brunette, enters.
    Maybe Arkin is adopted .
    Mrs. Pettigrew greets me, and my shaky hands steady. The whole atmosphere of the apartment reflects Arkin and his parents: light and cheerful. The walls are a pale yellow, and tapestries of colorful gardens hang on them. Glass figurines of frogs and birds decorate wooden shelves.
    “You two should get back to your studies,” Mr. Pettigrew says. “We need to get on that pot roast if we expect it to be done by dinnertime. Raissa, you’re able to stay for dinner, right?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Would your mother like to join us?” Mrs. Pettigrew asks from the kitchen.
    “She works the evening shift this week,” I say.
    “That’s a shame. Sometimes I have to work that shift too,” Mr. Pettigrew says, heading into the kitchen.
    “Your parents are nice,” I whisper to Arkin.
    A sly smile curls his lips, giving me goose bumps. “We need a study break. Come and see my room.”
    I follow him out of the living room and into a room at the end of the hallway. His barren, clean-swept bedroom surprises me. I expected the walls to be covered in sports posters or painted some boy color. He hasn’t been in the apartment very long, yet his room holds no unpacked boxes. In one corner, a single-sized bed sits covered in brown blankets. A wooden desk stands in the adjacent corner with school textbooks stacked on it. There’s a wicker laundry hamper beside a closed closet door.
    As soon as he walks into the room, Arkin crosses to the window and closes the plaid curtains. Then he opens his arms out and takes an exaggerated bow. “Welcome to my home!”
    I laugh.
    “What? You don’t like it?” he asks.
    I shrug. “It’s decent.”
    “I don’t have a lot of stuff,” he says, dropping down on the edge of the bed, “so this is the best I can do.”
    “What part of Gideon did you move from?”
    He looks at the floor as if searching for the right words. “Not far from here.”
    “East Gideon?” I ask.
    “I’d rather not talk about it. The past is in the past. It’s best to look toward the future.”
    I roll my eyes. “That’s what my mom says.”
    “Want to see one of the coolest things I have?”
    Before I can respond, he