Bystander Read Online Free Page A

Eric caught the boy peering at him sideways, a little hunched in his chair, head low, books a jumbled mess, binder open. Every time Eric looked up, he seemed to catch that kid staring at him. It was irritating. But then Eric remembered that day on the basketball court, and the boy running to the pet cemetery. Here he saw that same pale, freckled face. He had curly hair and wore a wounded, wary expression.
    That’s him
, Eric realized.
Ketchup boy. He remembers me.
    Eric gave him a nod, an almost imperceptible chin lift. A look of hostility flickered across the boy’s face—a flash of anger, bright as a naked lightbulb—then he turned away, stared at the book on his desk. Eric understood immediately. The boy was embarrassed, shamed. And Eric, as witness to that shame, was a party to it. Innocent or not,
he was there.
    Eric learned the boy’s name during attendance. David Hallenback. Eric had heard that name before. Yes, he remembered: the crash against the locker, the mocking voice, “
Hallenback!
”
    It appeared that Griffin Connelly was right. He did make a lousy enemy.
    No matter what happened in the future, or how their lives might come to intersect, Eric would think of Hallenback as forever shambling across that field, haunted and hunted; no matter what else happened, Eric would envision Hallenback as he was revealed that singular summer afternoon—covered in ketchup, covered in shame.
    â€œI wouldn’t talk to that kid if I was you.” Eric turned and she was there, sitting in the chair beside him.
    Brown-eyed Mary O’Malley.
    â€œWhat?”
    Mary smiled at him. Tilted her head toward Hallenback. “Him,” she said. “You should stay away. If you are nice to him even once, you’ll never get rid of him. It’s like feeding a stray dog.”
    Mary wore jeans and a loose shirt, no makeup, but still looked tanned and athletic. “You were with those guys that day,” he noted.
    â€œI was with Griff,” she said. “We sometimes hang out. The others were just sort of there.”
    Eric glanced back at Hallenback, who was observing them while pretending to read. “That’s the kid you guys were chasing, right?”
    Eric instantly regretted his mistake, wished he could take back the words. On the basketball court, he had told Griff that he didn’t see anyone.
    Mary stretched, languidly raising her arms in the air. Her eyes coolly assessed Eric, studying him. “So you lied, huh? I knew it.”
    â€œI didn’t want to get involved,” Eric explained.
    â€œSure.”
    â€œDid he do something wrong?”
    Mary leaned forward. “I’m just telling you, because you’re new here, and you seem like you might be all right. Just steer clear.”
    â€œConsidering the way he looks at me, that’s not going to be a problem. I don’t think he likes me,” Ericsaid. He paused, watched Mary watch him, and changed his tune. “Okay, I got the message. I won’t feed the stray dog. Thanks for the heads-up.”
    Mary stood, without hurry, to rejoin her friends in the back of the room. “What’s your screen name? Do you IM?”
    â€œIM?”
    â€œInstant message,” Mary replied.
    â€œOh, right! Sure, yeah,” Eric bluffed. The last thing he wanted to admit was that his mother didn’t allow him to use instant message. Not until he was sixteen. It was another one of her rules. Semi-flustered, Eric spluttered, “I mean, I don’t IM a super lot, but—”
    Mary’s brown eyes smiled. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”
    â€œNot really, no,” Eric admitted.
    â€œJust give me your e-mail address,” she said. “We’ll go from there.”

7
[lunch]
    THE PROBLEM WITH THE CAFETERIA WAS THIS: WHERE DO you sit? Eric hadn’t really thought about it until he stood there, food tray in his hands, inspecting the landscape. The room was