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called me back to her desk.
    “I changed your grade and theirs. When I confronted the young men with the evidence that yours was the only handwriting on the poster—not to mention that they’d fooled around during all the class time in which you worked on it—they admitted that you had done all the work.”
    “Wow, thanks.” I was sort of amazed she couldn’t have figured that out without my telling her. “So what happened to Nathan and Nick?”
    “I’m sorry.” She looked down. “I’m not allowed to discuss another student’s discipline with you.”
    Which was how I knew they’d really gotten reamed.
    Sure enough, when I got to language arts class, I heard one of the Jennifers saying she’d seen Nick and Nathan going into I.S.S. I smiled.
    That afternoon, I was walking home, smiling at the knowledge that my grades were again perfect. I walked alone, trying not to notice Greg taking off in the opposite direction with Jennifer, probably heading to her house. It was near Halloween, and the air had gone from summer-hot to chilly. A gust of wind swept up the empty street, and I shivered.
    Then, suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me.
    At first, they were distant. I resisted looking back, though I wanted to see if it was maybe Greg. It wasn’t Greg. It wouldn’t matter if it was Greg. There was no Greg for me.
    The pounding steps got closer. And harder. I could tell now there were two pairs of feet. Boys’ feet. Another gust practically knocked me over, sending leaves and dirt into my face. Usually, no one else walked this way, toward the outskirts of town. I sped up. As soon as I passed Salem Court, I knew they’d part from me. They had to be going there. I matched my step to the rhythm of theirs. Yet they grew closer. My backpack was heavy, digging into my shoulders, slowingme down, and my sneakers cut into my heels.
    I, then they, passed Salem Court. They didn’t turn. They were following me. That was the only explanation. No one was outside, no one to help me. There was one house, dark and lonely, with peeling, once-white paint. They said an old lady lived there, an old lady or a witch, but I’d never seen her. No kids, though.
    Someone yelled, “Hey, ugly!”
    I turned to see who had shouted. Nick and Nathan. They broke out laughing. “Look at that!” Nathan yelled. “She answers to ugly.”
    They were following me. And they were angry. I broke into a run. My sneakers were like blades, slicing into my heels, but I ran. I ran!
    And, behind me, I heard them running too. Something hit the side of my head, hard. A rock. It stung, and I dropped my backpack to run faster, dropped it even though I knew they’d take it, knew they’d steal my books and scatter my papers to the wind. I ran as fast as I could.
    Another rock hit me. “Stone the ugly witch!” And they were on me, pushing me to the pitted pavement, slamming my head to the hard ground. Their fists rained on me, on my face, into my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t fight them. The world should have gone black, almost did go black with the blows to my face, but instead, I stared upward at the blue sky. A bird, a black crow or maybe a grackle, sat on one bare tree branch. Help me, I thought.
    Strangely, I remembered that day in grade school, the day I’d first spoken to Greg. Help me. Then, I was floating, no longer inside my body, but above it. I was the bird, perched high in the tree branches, waiting. I opened my beak and gave a mighty caw, spreading my wings and showing my black feathers to the sun. With my beaded eyes, I looked down at the girl, the ugly girl on the pavement, being beaten by two big boys. She looked tiny, shriveled. I cried out again.
    Suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore. And the sky was no longer blue. It was black with the wings of dozens, no hundreds of birds, blackbirds, grackles, crows, ravens, even larger birds, birds I’d never seen before, lunging and diving below, pecking at my attackers, at their faces,