The Boy No One Remembered

At some point, I realized my seatmate, Grace Bell, had started looking at me strangely.

At first, she only nudged her desk a little farther away from mine when she thought I wasn't paying attention.

Then she simply moved her chair all the way to the window.

I tapped her shoulder, trying to remind her to pay attention in class.

I didn't expect her to fall straight off the chair in fright.

Her face was full of panic. She scrambled up from the floor on all fours and bolted out of the classroom.

I was completely confused. I wondered if I'd somehow offended her.

I planned to ask Grace about it the next day and clear up the misunderstanding.

But when I came to school the next morning, the seat beside me was already empty.

Our English teacher told me, hesitantly, that Grace had applied on her own to move from the honors track to a regular class.

Our class was the best honors class at Eastbridge High. We had the strongest teachers in the school.

Grace had told me more than once how hard she'd worked to get in.

The fact that she'd voluntarily transferred to a regular class was way too strange.

I still couldn't hold back. As soon as class ended, I found out which classroom she'd moved to and went there with an expensive apology gift.

Even though I didn't know what I'd done wrong, my attitude was sincere enough.

Grace was sitting by the window, laughing and chatting with the classmates beside her.

While I hesitated outside the window, one of her new friends spotted me and nudged her shoulder.

"Grace, someone's here for you."

The smile on Grace's face froze the instant she turned around.

As that smile faded, her expression twisted into something uglier than crying. Her whole body began trembling violently.

"Ah! It really has nothing to do with you. Stop looking for me. Please, I'm begging you, I'm begging you!"

The students in the classroom saw her hysterical state and assumed I'd been harassing her. They quickly drove me away.

I had no choice but to carry the gift back to my own classroom.

When Theo Whitaker saw my dejected face, he'd already guessed how the apology had gone. He walked over and patted my shoulder.

"Forget it. There's no point forcing yourself to keep someone who isn't a good fit.

"Your seat's near the front. The teacher will definitely move someone from the back to sit beside you.

"Maybe the new seatmate will be better."

I sighed. "I hope so."

Would my new seatmate really get along with me?

My new seatmate was Connor Ward. He was cheerful and outgoing.

It only took us two class periods to go from awkward strangers to the kind of friends who'd make plans to play games together after school.

We clicked quickly.

But after lunch, he suddenly went quiet.

When the teacher called on him to answer a question, Connor, who was usually quick with jokes and answers, actually froze for two seconds before standing up.

With a blank expression, he told the teacher he'd zoned out and didn't know the answer.

Our English teacher was displeased. "First Grace, now you. One after another, none of you are focusing on your studies. What's going on?"

Connor's eyes seemed to flick toward me by accident.

It was only a split second, but because I'd been unusually sensitive lately, I caught it.

I suddenly realized Connor had also started acting strange.

He began avoiding me, intentionally or otherwise.

One day, during nap period, I opened my eyes in a half-dreaming haze.

And I found him staring at me, dead still.