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nice, but sort of strange. She didn’t talk to a whole lot of people, other than her pal Larissa Longview. They were snobs really, but Marshall didn’t care. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone anyway.
    He felt his inhaler in his pocket. It was right where it should be. He hoped he didn’t have to use it all day and keep the necessary breaths only for morning and night in the privacy of his own room.
    The bus came to the school and the nervous talk dwindled down as everyone picked up their backpacks. They left it single-file, as if it was the entrance to a prison waiting just for them.
    Marshall thought that middle school was odd. It was like being a kindergartener once again, only this time you couldn’t take naps and had to be responsible for your homework. Mason had taken off toward the high school with his pals—all with the same gelled hair, gooey like a cinnamon roll—as soon as they had gotten off the bus.
    Marshall thought Mason had waved to him, but realized he had only run a hand through his hair to make sure it was in place. He wondered if Mason felt like he did. He wondered if feeling like a newbie was hard on him too.
    Marshall pulled his schedule out of his pocket and found homeroom. He slid into a seat in the back and watched the room fill up with faces he’d never seen before. Middle school was so much larger than elementary. This school was the only one for miles around, so all middle and high- schoolers went here. The school felt like it was a hundred times larger than before. Marshall slunk from hallway to hallway, not seeing a whole lot of familiar faces.
    Marshall took a deep breath and relaxed when he saw Michael Marks, Justin Blandon and Greg Gutierrez walk in. It was the three amigos. Inseparable, unstoppable, and so far, the only friends he knew. He wasn’t one of them, as a part of the “in” crowd, but he wasn’t “out” either. Marshall was sort of a stand-by; friends with anyone and friends with anyone who wanted to be a friend to him.
    Ever since Marshall had acquired a pocketknife from Luke’s last year, the three amigos were all semi-interested in knowing him—even if he was short and asthmatic. The ivory handle, and blade made of pure sterling silver, was a new attraction. He never brought it to school, but on the last day, he had snuck it in and they all oohed and ahhed over it in the boy’s bathroom.
    He hid it as soon as the last bell rang, in one of the stalls toilet paper holder. If one of his “buddies” told a teacher he was carrying a knife, he didn’t want to have it on him.
    Michael nodded at him as he turned toward him. “Hey Marsh.”
    The pack sat down. Marshall nodded back and the three of them already had their heads together planning some sort of new group. Last year, it had been the tall club; only tall boys could be a part of it. Fortunately, for them, that was all three of them. The year before that, it was the club that only sons of father’s who served the community could be a part of. Marshall had been out because his dad was a banker. Michael’s dad was a police officer, Greg’s dad was a firefighter, and Justin’s was in the army reserves. Not quite the same, but they made the exception.
    The rules only served to serve them. It was stupid.
    Marshall was already doodling in his notebook, trying to figure out what the club was going to be for this year, when a girl with dark black curls walked it.
    Iris was here.

Chapter 4: The Fishing Pole
     
    Iris walked in with her head down, focused on an empty seat a few away from Marshall. Marshall was so happy to see her. His heart pounded like a drum. He wondered if she’d seen him and leaned over to get a better look at her.
    She opened her backpack and brought out a pencil and paper and stared straight ahead.
    The rest of the class was talking to each other. There were a lot of new faces, so Iris was nothing to take notice of . They may have wondered why she was so pale, but other than that, they