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belonging they experienced in each other’s company. But Lia sat alone, eating a stale sandwich, wishing she was invisible. She didn’t expect to be invited to sit with the others. Her presence repelled them. Whenever someone got too near, they started acting angry, whiny or just plain mean. Like her dad.
    Being alone was a blessing, but as usual it didn’t last.
    Justin walked in, his eye framed by a nasty bruise. The kid was cocky to a fault, always spoiling for a fight. His buddies happily rushed to greet him. Even bullies had friends.
    “What the hell happened to you?” one of them asked.
    Justin gave his trademark shrug. “Some shithead said something I didn’t like, so I used his face as a punching bag. He managed to get in a punch before I crushed his sorry ass.”
    The guys all laughed, then each gave him a high-five.
    A single glance his way confirmed what Lia already suspected. Justin was lying. Across the room, his gaze met and held hers, full of resentment and barely contained fury, as if he understood that she was the only one here who actually saw him. She quickly returned her attention to her sandwich. Too late. The bully headed her way.
    “What are you looking at, loser?” He grabbed her by the dark gray jersey jacket she wore—the same one she’d used to conceal the pigeon—and effortlessly lifted her off the chair.
    “A coward and a liar.” She should’ve known better by now than to run her mouth, but she couldn’t help herself.
    Justin laughed, a cold, empty sound that made her spine tingle unpleasantly. She’d heard that laugh before, knew instinctively what would follow. Justin gave her a nice, hard shove. A loud clang echoed through the cafeteria as the chair she’d been sitting on crashed to the floor.
    “What do you say, guys?” Justin turned to his buddies. “Wanna see what I did to the creep who gave me this shiner?”
    His friends cheered, and a swell of defiance expanded in her chest. “Go ahead,” she dared. “Run and hide the way you did last night.”
    Silence swept through the room. Everyone had gathered round, anticipating a fight. People were naturally drawn to violence. For some reason, watching someone get the shit kicked out of him excited them.
    Lia didn’t care. She’d say what she had to say and let the punches land where they may. “Your mother was out late again last night. She came home drunk, with some guy. He was drunk, too. So drunk he beat you up, while she watched. That’s how you got that black eye.”
    The color leached from Justin’s face. Hatred, bright and blinding, shone in his eyes. Beneath the bravado and false pride, the truth bled like a wound that refused to heal. This boy’s spirit was damaged beyond repair. She saw it as clear as day.
    And somehow, Justin knew that she did. “Freak.”
    She didn’t get the chance to reply. An iron fist slammed into her face, and the world dissolved in a shower of light.
    Lia awoke with a start, her heart racing, her face throbbing. She could still feel the impact of the fist on her cheek, see the stars dancing along the edges of her vision. But the worst was the oppressive sadness that pressed down on her, born from the unwavering belief that there wasn’t a single person in the entire world who liked her. The loneliness that enfolded her was so dark and so deep, she nearly drowned in it.
    Sweat pearled on her skin, cold and clammy. Pushing the damp covers aside, she stood and went to the bathroom, where she proceeded to sprinkle water on her face. Tears burned beneath her lids, but she refused to cry over a dream.
    No, not a dream. What she’d just experienced was a memory. One that belonged to the lonely kid in the gray jersey jacket.
    “Who are you?” she said, trying to see past her own reflection in the mirror to the ghost that had somehow taken possession of her spirit.
    The only answer was the whistle of the wind against her window pane and the pitter-patter of the faucet she kept forgetting