"I think you see my point. In any case, there's a supply list on the next to last page of the syllabus. I'd like to point that out again in case some of you missed it. You will be required to turn in your notebooks at regular intervals, and the journal and other requirements are thirty percent of your grade."

"This is a lot of work," said one of the girls. Jennifer had to think for a moment to place her. Jessica was her name, and she was in one of Jennifer's soph.o.m.ore cla.s.ses.

"It's nothing compared to what you'll be doing in college, believe me."

Jessica frowned.

"When it's done, you'll look back on it and be surprised how little it actually seems. This is the honors cla.s.s. I have to push you, or I wouldn't be giving you what you signed up for, would I?"

After she danced around a few more protests, she set them to writing. The a.s.signment she gave them today would be the first of many for their notebooks. Truthfully, Jennifer hated the notebook a.s.signment because it meant either lugging home fifty pounds of binders, or coming into the school on Sunday to get them graded. The work was incredibly mindless, as she mainly ticked off whether something was physically in the binder or not. She was sharp on spelling and grammar, but only in regards to essays, exams, and other formally graded a.s.signments. If she read every journal entry that closely, she'd never sleep. The point was to get them writing and organizing their thoughts on a daily basis. preferably without hashtags. Jennifer's soul died a little whenever she came across #YOLO in a student's written a.s.signment.

Procedural tasks occupied Jennifer as pens scratched on papers. She distributed the textbooks the kids would likely to keep at home and never actually use. A cla.s.s set of ponderous tomes was provided at her own insistence. She still winced at the thought of arguing with Kazmeyer about it. The old man expected the kids to lug a text the size of a telephone book with them from their lockers to cla.s.s, and then back home. Jennifer's back hurt thinking about it. Rachel took her side and badgered the department head into ordering cla.s.sroom sets of the books when they were replaced during Jennifer's second year.

The books were woefully inadequate anyway. They took sections of great works out of context, and someone thought it was a good idea to teach the Odyssey to freshmen.

Of course, Kazmeyer wrote the curriculum, so there was no changing that. Jennifer was established enough that she didn't have to worry about more than one freshman cla.s.s unless she requested them.

An hour and a half always seemed daunting when it started, but Jennifer felt pressed for time by the end. She kept them in their seats until he bell rang, and grudgingly dismissed them. She nodded and smiled as they left the room, then sighed. She hated having first lunch, and preferred the last one. After this, she wouldn't have a reprieve until the end of the day. Rachel would no doubt ask her to watch her cla.s.s while she went to the bathroom or something at least once, or something else would come up.

She left her door open and returned to her desk, but a commotion in the hall stopped her from slumping in her chair A shriek followed loud shouting, and it sounded like a body hit the lockers. Jennifer limped as quickly as she could to the doorway. Two boys grappled with each other, twisting to shove the other into the walls.

Jennifer didn't recognize either of them. Instinct kept her back. Usually, a fight between two boys was a few blows, maybe a punch or two thrown if there was a real grievance, a grave insult, or a dispute over a girl. Girls fighting girls were more dangerous, since they rarely held back once they pushed past the breaking point to physical violence.

This was no boyish struggle for dominance. The larger of the two boys in the hall shoved the smaller one's face into a locker hard enough to draw blood, sending Jennifer back into her room. She slapped the intercom b.u.t.ton, and Linda, the lead secretary, answered after the beep.

"There's a fight down here," Jennifer shouted.

The shorter boy was losing badly. Jennifer couldn't just stand there, even as Rachel grabbed at her wrist. She put her hands on the taller boy's shoulder, and without looking he shoved his elbow into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her sails. She stumbled back, and her hurt ankle sent a shooter of pain up her leg enough to cause her to fall.

Jacob caught her. Whether it was intentional or instinct she didn't know, but he picked her right up off the floor, gently lowered her to sit on the tiles, and stepped into the melee. He didn't say anything before grabbing the taller of the two boys by the belt, then dragged him away from the smaller one. The shorter boy wasn't fighting back, just shielding his head and cowering against the lockers. The big one rounded on Jacob and threw a wild punch that hit nothing but air. Jacob twisted out of the way, took hold of the boy's wrist, and pinned him against the lockers in less than half a second.

By then, the cavalry had arrived. Howard Unger, the vice princ.i.p.al, followed Edwards down the hall. Howard immediately put himself between the two boys, while Edwards touched Jacob's shoulder and eased him away. The boy immediately twisted free and tried to run, until Edwards roughly held him against the lockers. The doors rattled from the impact as Edwards dragged the boy's arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

"Stop moving," Edwards snapped.

"What happened?" Howard turned frantically in the hallway.

"I don't know," Jacob said. "I didn't see it start." He nodded at the taller boy. "That one hit Miss Katzenberg."

"His backpack," the shorter boy said, panting. His voice went high and tight from tension. "Check his backpack."

"You f.u.c.king snitch!" the taller boy shouted and renewed his struggles. Edwards just sighed and pushed him harder up against the lockers. Calmly, he looked at Rachel, who was standing in the middle of the hall, gaping.

"Mrs. Garrison, go buzz Linda and tell her to call the locals."

Rachel nodded and retreated into her room.

Howard bent down and found the boy's backpack, and pull it open. He jerked back, his bushy eyebrows rising.

"Jesus Christ," he said, stepping back. "n.o.body touch that."

"What is it?" Jennifer said.

She started to rise, taking Jacob's offered hand, and he pulled her to her feet. His hand lingered on hers for just a second. Two things struck her: in addition to his warm strength and the little shiver pa.s.sing up her arm from his touch, it felt like every bone in his hand had been broken, then healed gnarled and twisted. She leaned on the locker, lifting her hurt ankle.

"Drugs," Howard said. "There's a whole pharmacy in there."

Edwards leaned over, sighed, and turned back to the boy pinned to the lockers. "You messed up, kid. Now calm down, before you make this worse."

As Edwards pulled him by the elbow down the hall, Howard picked up the backpack by its top handle.

"Can you two escort him down to the nurse? Jennifer, I'm going to need to see you about filing an injury report."

Jennifer nodded. Jacob had already moved to the other boy's side. A black eye would soon join the boy's bruised cheek, and a cut on his forehead bled down the side of his face to stain his shirt dark red. Jacob stooped to look him in the eye.

"Look at me," he said. "Are you okay to walk?"

The boy nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Cole," he said.

"Come on," Jacob said.

Jennifer limped down the hall with them.

"What happened?" Jacob asked.

"I saw him selling that stuff to another kid." He shrugged. "He saw that I saw and he just went crazy."

Jacob's jaw tensed and cords stood out on his neck. "Let's get you looked at. It was a brave thing you did, telling us about the bag."

"I don't feel brave," said the boy.

"You usually don't," Jacob said softly.

They led the injured boy into the nurse's office. He flopped down on the big beige exam table-slash-couch as Miss Meyers sat beside him and gently pulled his shirt away.

"I'll get something clean for you to wear," she said, softly. "You said you didn't hit your head when you fell?"

"I don't think so," he said.

She nodded. "Doesn't look like your nose is broken, but I'm going to get an ambulance out here anyway, and excuse you for the day. The police will want to talk to you."

"Am I going to be suspended?"

Jennifer glanced at Jacob, who folded his arms but said nothing. Like almost every one in the United States, the school had a zero tolerance policy. Generally, everyone involved in a fight would face disciplinary action depending on who started it.

"Tell me again what happened," Jacob said. "Don't leave anything out."

"I was going to cla.s.s when I saw that big kid with his pack open. I didn't see inside, but he was taking a big wad of cash from another kid."

"Do you know either of their names?"

He lightly shook his head and winced.

"Then what?"

"I stared too long, I guess. The big one saw me and came after me. I tried to tell him I was cool but he started hitting me and threw me into the locker. Then you came out."

"I see." Jacob glanced at Jennifer.

"I need to make sure he doesn't have a concussion," Miss Meyers said.

Jacob nodded before leaving. He briskly walked the opposite direction from his cla.s.sroom, and headed instead towards the office. Jennifer tried to catch up.

"Where are you going?"

"The office."

She motioned over her shoulder. "You should let the administration handle this."

"I have to be sure," he said calmly.

He pushed through the main office door, then continued through the half-door within the long counter separating the administrative section from the waiting area lined with plastic bucket chairs. Jennifer scurried behind him, even as Lisa half-stood to protest. Jacob bypa.s.sed Howard's empty office, then turned to the conference room, a windowed room with an oval table and cheap plastic chairs. The student who attacked Cole cuffed to one of those chairs. Edwards talked on his radio as he emptied the contents of the boy's bag on the table.

No school supplies dropped from the bag. Jennifer knew marijuana when she saw it, but there was a whole a.s.sortment of bottles filled with pills, powders in bags, and blotter paper she suspected was acid.

Howard stopped them at the door."What are you two doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you about disciplinary action against the other student," Jacob said.

"I'm not worried about that right now. Did you see that?" He thumbed over his shoulder. "This is a d.a.m.ned mess."

"I just want to make sure he won't get in trouble," Jacob said.

"Look, I don't want that to happen either, but we have a strict disciplinary code here."

Jacob looked at him, flatly. "You must have some discretion. The kid took a big risk pointing out the bag to you."

"I'd have searched it anyway."

"That's not the point."

Jennifer pushed into the conversation."He's right," she said. "The kid was already beaten up. He could have just kept his mouth shut."

Howard palmed his face in frustration. Beet red and sweating, he looked like an angry police captain in a movie.

"Fine," he said. "You made your point. I can probably make sure the kid isn't arrested at the very least. We need to handle this now." He turned away to prevent further arguments.

Jennifer and Jacob exchanged glances. The feeling of looking up at someone was still a novelty. His shoulders slumped as he turned to head out of the office. The set of his jaw made the skin pucker slightly around his scar. Jacob brushed the hair out of his face before turning back to Jennifer.

"Are you hurt? He gave you a pretty good shot."

"I'm fine." Jennifer rubbed her stomach. "He just surprised me. This isn't my day, is it?"

"I suppose not," Jacob said.

"You did a good job," she said.

"I did?"

"It must be quite a thing to see something like that on your first day on the job. I didn't see a fight until November of my first year. Two girls."

"That can't be too bad," he said.

She shook her head. "Teenage girls fighting are the worst. You know how boys are most of the time. They fight to establish dominance. Half the time they end up friends after a few punches. Girls aren't like that. When they fight, they fight to hurt each other."

"You speak from experience?"

She shrugged. "Just observation."

"I think that boy was trying to hurt the other one," he said.

"Yes. This is pretty serious. How did you do all that?"

"All what?"

She shrugged. "That fancy fighting. You're fast."

"Nothing fancy about it."

He shook his head, and another lock of hair pulled loose and draped over his ear. Jennifer had a curious urge to tuck it back.

"Every teenage boy thinks he can fight ten times better than he really can."

"You have some kind of training. I can tell by the way you move."

"The same way I can tell you have a few years of gymnastics?"

She blinked. "I suppose."

He laughed. "It's just a hobby. Something to keep me in shape while I studied."

"You must be a swift learner."

He shrugged, and his grin started to come back. "So, should I eat lunch with you?"