ONE

       Now

      Sam Peterson was not Popular. Not that he was terribly unpopular. Like many high school kids his age, his main goal was to make it through the day without being noticed. Not by his teachers, who were bound to ask him something he didn’t know. (What was the deal with theorems anyway?) Not by the coaches, who might not try to humiliate him, but who managed to do so anyway. Not by the Popular kids, who treated him as if he had dropped a load in his pants. He had his circle of friends, who were pretty much like him, struggling to get by in a world they didn’t create and didn’t control. In his heart he knew high school wasn’t designed to torture kids, but that didn’t help. Things could be worse. He could be fat, or wear braces, or have over-active acne. There were millions of things that could lift you out of the inconspicuous middle and subject you to ridicule and scorn. Instead, he muddled along, happy when each school day ended.

      If you had told Sam his whole life would change during lunch period, he would never have believed you. Lunch was an oasis in the storm that was daily life at Millard Fillmore High. At lunch he felt like he was part of a group. A ragtag collection of like souls was more accurate, but it was better than nothing. At lunch he could hang with his friends, have a few laughs, and, on a very good day, see Simon Snell squirt milk through his nose.

      But lunch was when it happened, and Dylan Matthews was why it happened.

      Now that wouldn’t have been a surprise. Dylan Matthews didn’t like Sam. Sam wasn’t sure why. It was like Dylan saw him one day and thought, “I don’t like this guy.” From that day forward, Dylan made it his mission to bully Sam whenever he could.

      Dylan was pretty lazy, and that applied to his bullying as well. He didn’t shake kids down for their lunch money or give them swirlies in the toilet. He was big enough that he could probably pummel a guy pretty badly, and there were plenty of stories. Everyone knew about someone Dylan had beaten up, but no one ever saw it happen. For most kids, the threat was enough.

      Sam’s run-ins with Dylan consisted mainly of wedgies and chocolate milk shampoos. Dylan called him “squirt” or “Spammy” or, when he was especially fired up, “Shirley.” Dylan was not particularly creative. Still, he was enough of an annoyance that Sam kept his distance.

      Today, Dylan was the last thing on Sam’s mind. Instead, he was deep in debate about the pros and cons of Lizardman IV: Rigore Returns! Danny Munch had the gall to suggest it was the greatest Lizardman movie ever, and Sam could not let that pass. In his excitement, Sam was on his feet, re-enacting a fight scene from Rigore Attacks! He spun around, ready for the final attack, when . . .

      SPLAT!

      Dylan Matthews.

      Wednesday was Italian day at the caf, and Dylan had a double serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Rather, Dylan was wearing a double serving of spaghetti and meatballs. Sam had pulled out his invisible neutron gun at just the right time and just the right angle, and the rest was history. Messy, messy history.

      The cafeteria went silent.

      And then erupted in laughter. Even Dylan’s sidekicks, Lurch and Burch (Lewis and Bertram, actually, but few people even knew their real names), couldn’t help but howl in glee. Dylan’s face went white, then red, and if smoke could have poured out of his ears, it would have.

      “I’m gonna kill you, Shirley!” Dylan roared.

      Sam was off. He was small, but he was fast. Years of dodgeball had made him flexible, and at this point, his fear was greater than Dylan’s anger. The chase was on.

      There was no place to hide in Millard Fillmore High. If Sam’s time there had taught him anything, it was that. His best move would be to head to the office, but the code of kids everywhere was written in his DNA: “Don’t Squeal.” So he ran, with three pairs of feet thundering behind him.

      Then he saw it: “Danger. Keep Out.”

      It was an ordinary door, just another classroom. Sam didn’t know what the Danger could be. He knew that Dylan and company wouldn’t Keep Out because of a sign. But he was pretty sure that they would think that he wouldn’t go into a room marked