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“Do you want to talk
     about this report thing?”
    I don’t answer right away, but I do take the mug in both hands and savor the rich
     chocolate scent. My brother knows me. I can tell right away that this is a different
     type of hot chocolate than he got last time—no powder, just real chocolate melted
     into steaming-hot milk. Floating on top is a soft, handmade marshmallow. My favorite.
     It’s as if he could sense my mood and stopped to buy this even before he came to pick
     me up. Or perhaps he’s seen me have one too many rough first days of school.
    We sip our drinks in silence for a while. “They said I got in a fight,” I finally
     blurt out. “But I didn’t. I didn’t even touch the other guy.” Metias raises an eyebrow
     at me, but he doesn’t argue, and I find myself rambling on. “And then Ms. Whitaker—that’s
     my dean secretary—she said that I don’t respect authority enough, and that I talk
     back too much. Then they assigned me into Intermediate Defense instead of Introductory
     Defense. That’s a good thing, right? But they also gave me a report.”
    Metias clicks his tongue in disapproval. “June. What have I told you about talking
     back to your teachers?”
    “She’s not my teacher. She’s my dean secretary.”
    “Whatever. I know I said to stick up for yourself, but that doesn’t mean I want you
     to go around picking fights or causing trouble on purpose. It sounds like you deserved
     that report, kid.”
    I glare at him, annoyed that he isn’t taking my side. “I don’t know whether they’re
     trying to punish me or praise me.”
    Metias leans on one arm propped up against the back of the couch, and unless I’m seeing
     things, I swear there’s both a smile and a frown hidden along his mouth. He studies
     me thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re trying to do both,” he replies. “It sounds like they
     saw your talents as well as your attitude problems, and it’s a bit confusing for them
     to deal with those at the same time. Maybe they’re just like your other schools. They
     just don’t know what to do with you.”
    “Nobody ever knows what to do with me.” Suddenly I’m unleashing all my frustration
     onto my brother. “The school doesn’t fit me—nothing ever does. I can’t even carry
     on a normal conversation with my classmates for longer than thirty seconds, because
     what in the world do we have in common? They’re all sixteen and up, and they talk
     about dating and careers. None of them are twelve-year-olds in a university. I’m not
     interested in what they have to say, and half of them don’t even understand the things
I
want to talk about.”
    “A little modesty, Junebug,” Metias chides me in a soft voice.
    “Well, it’s true!” I exclaim. “
I’m not normal,
Metias—I see things that other people don’t see. I’m not in the same league. Why
     should I try to deny that?” My voice softens for an instant. “There’s something wrong
     with me.”
    Metias sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I know you’ll have a hard time making
     friends,” he says after a brief pause. “I know that’s what this is all about, all
     the grade skipping and showing off, and I won’t sugarcoat it for you. You
aren’t
normal. The things that make you special will give you all kinds of advantages in
     life, but they will also hold you back and expose your weaknesses. That isn’t going
     to change. And you’ll have to learn to adapt to that.”
    I stare into my mug, my sweet tooth abruptly gone. “I don’t know how,” I mutter.
    “You know everything.” Metias says this in a light, teasing way. “You’ll figure it
     out. Your strengths might make you hard to approach, and might make your words sound
     uglier than what you actually mean, but they also make people look up to you. They
     admire you, whether you realize it or not. If you stop trying so hard to impress them,
     maybe a few will start warming up to you.” My brother reaches out