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gone, I heard Alicia say, "What a
bitch
!" loud enough for everyone all around to hear. It didn't seem possible that my day could get much worse.
     
    Then I heard little titters of laughter coming from farther down the hallway, even over the commotion of the other students. I didn't need to look to know that it was Joy and Melanie, that they'd seen the whole thing, and that their little plan to get me off on the wrong foot couldn't have gone any better if they'd choreographed it like a music video.
     
    • • •
     
    That afternoon, after school, I walked into the living room, where Yolanda was watching television, and I immediately smelled smoke.
     
    "Yolanda!" I said. "Don't be stupid!"
     
    "What?" she said, looking up innocently.
     
    "I can smell the cigarette! Right out in the open like this? You want to get caught again?"
     
    She lifted her left hand, which had been hidden behind the far armrest on the couch. Sure enough, she was holding a lit cigarette. "Relax," she said, taking a drag. "The only counselor home right now is Mrs. Morgan, and she can't smell a thing."
     
    "What?"
     
    "It's true. She was in some accident or something. Ruined her smelling thingies."
     
    I crossed to the nearest window and opened it up. "Just put it out, okay? Leon or Ben and Gina could walk in here any second. Are you trying to get yourself kicked out of here or what?"
     
    With a sigh, Yolanda crawled to the massive fireplace, where she tenderly put the precious cigarette out against a brick. Then she slipped the half-smoked cigarette back into the pack in her pocket.
     
    "What's the big deal about smoking inside, anyway?" I said. "Is it that hard to walk fifteen feet to the front porch?"
     
    "I like the way it smells," Yolanda said, scooting herself back toward the television again. And suddenly, I wondered if the real reason she was so determined to smoke inside was because her parents were smokers and the smell reminded her of them.
     
    I said, "Just knock it off, okay? I just got myself a new roommate. I'd like to keep her around for a while."
     
    Yolanda didn't say anything. But she smiled a little, and I could tell she was flattered that someone was showing concern for her.
     
    I didn't have anywhere else to go, so I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of the television.
     
    "So what'd you think of school?" Yolanda asked me.
     
    "Joy told everyone I live here," I said.
     
    "Yeah, I know. She just wants to show you who's boss. You just have to let her think she is."
     
    I thought to myself, If you let someone think they're the boss, that usually means they are the boss! And that just wasn't the way I did things. On the other hand, I was now living at the Last Chance Texaco--the last stop before being sent to Eat-Their-Young Island. Which maybe meant that the way I did things wasn't working all that well.
     
    Before I could say anything, someone kicked open the front door.
     
    "Hi, honey, I'm home!"
     
    Ben.
     
    I looked at Yolanda with eyes that said, See? I told you so! She pretended to ignore me, just kept watching the television.
     
    Ben stuck his head into the living room. "Hey."
     
    "Hey," Yolanda said.
     
    "Where is everyone?" he asked.
     
    "I think Gina's upstairs in your room," I said quickly, hoping he'd leave us alone and give the cigarette smoke more of a chance to clear. The house was big and drafty, but the smell was still pretty thick. Fortunately, he took the bait.
     
    When he was gone, I said to Yolanda, "What the hell is with them?"
     
    "Ken and Barbie?" she said.
     
    I nodded. "If I was married, I sure as hell wouldn't live in some run-down old house with a bunch of juvenile delinquents."
     
    "They can't have kids," said Damon, sauntering in from the dining room with his MP3 headphones on his head and a slice of toast in his hand. I hadn't even known he was downstairs with us.
     
    Yolanda sat upright, inspecting the top of his bread. "Hey, that's cinnamon toast! How'd you get