Six months earlier

Cade shuffled down the line of boys in the cafeteria, careful not to meet anyone's eye. He could feel them watching him, their gazes sweeping up and down, seeking weakness.

What they would see was a skinny, light-skinned Indian kid, though they wouldn't know his father was white. Not short, but not tall either, with amber eyes and wavy hair, cut in a tight-back-and sides cut. A military cut, one that he hoped would make him look as tough as all the other "troubled youths" at the school with him.

Lucky for him, there were no glasses or smattering of acne to give away the inner nerd hiding just beneath the surface. He tried to convince himself he looked no more vulnerable than the other teens he'd seen at intake that day. Yet try as he might, he could not keep the cafeteria tray from shaking in his hands. 

His blue uniform itched. It was the "therapeutic" board- ing school uniform, though it felt more like a prisoner's to him. Looking at the high walls outside, he couldn't see much difference.

"What you want?"

Cade looked up at the snaggle-toothed kid in front of him, a hairnet on his head, ladle in hand. Cade pointed at the mashed potatoes, peas, and what he assumed was meat loaf, and the kid dutifully slapped them onto his tray.

The cafeteria reminded him of the gymnasium at his old school, but there were no basketball hoops on the walls here. Only straight-backed drill sergeant–like counselors, their eyes scanning the tables.

Cade quickly realized he should have been planning where he was going to sit. Most of the tables were full, and the air filled with the loud banter of kids who knew each other well. How could he sit down in the midst of all that?

Cade hesitated, searching desperately for somewhere neutral to sit. There were no empty tables, but he spotted a kid he recognized from the intake. A gangly, pockmarked guy who had cried silently through it all, as the counselors shouted at them to face the wall and shuffle sideways toward their rooms.

The kid was sitting alone on one end of his table, while a trio of others ignored him on the other. Cade realized he had taken too long to find a seat. He didn't want to look intimidated, even if he was.

Adrenaline coursing through him, he walked the gaunt- let of tables, his ears filled with the shouts, laughs, and belches of the guys on either side. It felt like an eternity before he reached the other newcomer, who startled as Cade dropped his tray opposite him.

Cade nodded, then turned to his food. He soon realized yet another mistake. He'd left his cutlery behind.

"Damn," Cade muttered under his breath.

He had to go back. He went to stand, but suddenly a plastic spoon clattered onto his tray.

Cade looked up.
"Cade," he said.
"Jim." The kid gave him a tentative smile.
Cade felt himself relax, and he dug into his mashed potatoes with the spoon. They were watery and unseasoned, not to mention that Cade wasn't hungry. He ate regardless.

An awkward silence filled the space between he and Jim.

"Why'd your parents put you here?" Cade blurted, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them. Was that rude? It was too late now.

Jim looked up, surprised.

"I . . . a lot of things," he began. He paused, looking shame-facedly at his tray. "But the last one did it. I threw a party," he finally said. "Our place got wrecked. My parents didn't like that."

Cade gulped. "Sorry," he muttered. He racked his brain, trying to think of something else to say. Instead, he filled his mouth with another spoonful of bland mush.

"Well, hello there." Cade felt a hand clasp his shoulder, and his heart sank.

Here we go. 

"Making friends already?"

Cade looked up, taking in the new arrival. He had a shaved head, with cool blue eyes and a pout to his full lips.

Cade's heart sank even further as he took in a bruise on the boy's cheek and scabs on his knuckles. The kid had been fighting. Cade had never been in a fight in his life.

Fear seized his throat, even as he searched for an appropriate answer. Any words would come out in a croak, so he remained silent.

"Nothing to say?" the boy said, taking a seat beside Jim, as another kid plonked his tray down beside Cade.

Cade turned and felt his heart thundering in his chest. The other kid was heavyset, with small piggish eyes and the beginnings of patchy stubble on his ruddy cheeks.

It was only then that Cade realized that the first guy was talking to Jim, not him. This made him feel a bit better, but the relief dissipated in an instant as the ruddy kid beside him cleared his throat, then licked his spoon purposefully, making sure Cade was watching. Cade felt his stomach twist as the boy reached over and dug it into Cade's meat loaf.

"You were just making introductions, right?" the new- comer next to Jim said, shifting unnecessarily close to him. "You're Jim, he's Cade. Aren't you going to ask our names?"

"Wh-what's your name?" Jim stuttered.

"I'm Finch, and this here is Gobbler," the first guy replied. "We call him that on account of his appetite."

Gobbler stuck his spoon into Cade's mashed potatoes demonstratively before slopping it into his mouth. He chewed loudly before going in for more. 

"You're new, and we didn't want you starting off on the wrong foot," Finch said, putting a conspiratorial arm around Jim. He had pitched his voice to a stage whisper so that Cade could hear.

"This guy, he's not right for you. Apu here can sell you a pack of cigarettes at his convenience store, but he's not your friend. Get what I'm saying?"

He tightened his grip around Jim's shoulders, and the boy stared down at his plate, avoiding Cade's eyes.

Cade felt the anger rise in him, like hot bile. Apu . . . from The Simpsons. He had been dismissed by this boy like some caricature, to be ignored. Avoided.

But the fear that had kept him silent before remained, and all he could do was grit his teeth.

"You should sit with us," Finch said, placing a hand on the back of Jim's neck. "Like, now."

Cade felt the anger rise in him, like hot bile. But the fear that had kept him silent before remained, and all he could do was grit his teeth.

He could see the wheels turning in Jim's head, calculating the risk of turning Finch down. Then he gave a nod, his shoulders hunched.

Finch looked up at Cade, his lip curling with disdain. "Go find somewhere else to exist."
Cade stood, but when he went to pick up his tray, Gobbler slammed a palm down on top of it.

"Leave it," Finch snapped.

Cade felt the blood rush to his cheeks. Fear and anger twisted in his stomach like a coiled snake. His last school hadn't been like this. 

Oh, he'd experienced racism before. The disapproving stares when his mother and father went out together. The "random" selections at airport security. But nothing like this.

For the briefest moment he wanted to stand up for himself. Wasn't that what people said you should do with bullies? But this was a new school. He wasn't that guy.

Finch placed his clenched fists on the table, then looked up at Cade with an anger in his eyes that Cade could hardly believe was possible.

"I think he wants to say something, Finch," Gobbler mumbled through a mouthful.

But Cade didn't.

Instead, he hurried away, even as shame at his cowardice sent blood rushing to his cheeks.

Author's Note: I will be uploading a chapter every day until June 20th! But if you're enjoying the book and want to read the whole thing RIGHT NOW, you can buy the hardback in Barnes and Noble, Amazon or Books-A-Million, and the eBook on Kindle, Kobo, iBooks or Google Play!