“You okay?” Trevor asked.
“I’m just trying to get a tan.”
“That was a crazy crash!” Trevor gushed. “I wish we had a video camera. You flew like ten feet!”
She sat up, picking at some burrs in her shirt. “It knocked the wind out of me for a minute. I don’t think I broke anything.”
“You never break anything,” Pigeon said.
She looked up at Nate. “Your turn.”
“Well, you didn’t actually go off the—”
Something struck Nate in the back of his head, knocking him forward in a cloud of dust. The thrown object had not come from Trevor, Pigeon, or Summer. He had been facing them with his back to the creek.
Nate heard ecstatic laughter from behind.
“Denny’s in the Nest!” Trevor shouted as a second dirt clod hit the ramp, exploding in a swirl of dust.
“He’s got our ammo!” Pigeon cried.
Nate whirled, swiping at the dirt in his hair and on the back of his neck. Three kids were over near the creek, half hidden by undergrowth. One had black hair and wore a faded army jacket that looked a couple of sizes too large. Another was a thickset kid with curly blond hair. The third had lots of freckles and a round, flat face.
Nate charged the strangers. It was more of an angry impulse than a rational decision. His hands were clenched into fists as he raced through the brush.
The boys looked surprised. They stooped to grab more ammunition. Flat Face chucked a dirt clod that missed to the right. Army Jacket threw one that made Nate duck.
Nate had almost reached them. Only a few bushes separated him from his targets. He planned to crash through the bushes and tackle Army Jacket, who was the tallest. He dimly hoped Trevor was following him into battle.
Suddenly something blasted Nate in the face and he crashed to the ground with dirt in his teeth. He lay there stunned, unsure whether he had temporarily lost consciousness. Surely that had been a rock. No dirt clod would hurt so much. It felt like the side of his mouth had been kicked by a horse.
“Oh, you nailed him, Denny,” a voice said solemnly.
“Come on,” another voice said, suppressing a laugh.
Nate heard twigs snapping as the boys ran away. Of course they were running away. They didn’t want to get arrested for manslaughter.
Nate opened his eyes. Lying on his side, he touched the corner of his mouth and looked at the blood on his fingertips. He tried to spit out the gritty taste of dirt. Maybe the projectile had been a rock inside of a dirt clod.
“Are you okay?” It was Trevor, kneeling at his side.
“I’m not sure. What do I look like?”
“Your lip is bleeding and your cheek got scraped.”
Nate fingered one side of his upper lip. It seemed to be swelling.
Pigeon came and squatted nearby. “You must be crazy.”
“I don’t let people bully me.”
“Well,” Summer said, her torn shirt still full of prickers, “the good news is you can skip the jump. That was way better.”
“Welcome to the club,” Pigeon said.
Chapter Two
First Day
“It isn’t too late,” Nate pleaded. “Just take me back.”
“You need to go,” his mom replied.
“I promise I won’t complain tomorrow.”
“You’ll feel the same way tomorrow. Except worse, because you’ll be much more conspicuous.”
They passed the Presidential Estates sign, leaving the neighborhood as they turned onto Greenway. Nate leaned his forehead against the window.
“With a name like Presidential Estates, shouldn’t they be bigger houses?” Nate observed.
“I like our house.”
“We should at least have a pool. Or some pillars. They should rename the place Typical Neighborhood Estates.”
“I like our kitchen,” his mom persisted.
Nate sighed. He tugged absently at the zipper on his new backpack. They hit a bump, and the window jolted against his head. He sat up. “Come on, Mom, just let me skip today.”
“This is for your own good, Nate. There is no worse day to miss than the first one. Besides, your friend Summer is in your class.”
“I wanted Trevor.”
“You might have Pigeon.”
“Great,” Nate griped. “A girl and a dork. I’ll be the biggest outcast ever.”
They idled at an intersection. A store on the corner had a sign that read Sweet Tooth Ice Cream and Candy Shoppe in old-fashioned lettering.
“How about we get ice cream instead?” Nate proposed.
“Nice try. You don’t hate school. What’s the problem?”
“I’m too used to summer. It’s hard to go back, especially starting over in a new place. I wish I could ease into it, maybe just go for an hour.”
After a few cars passed, they turned onto Main. “The start of a new school year is a transition for everyone,” his mom said. “You’ll fit right in.”
“They all know each other.”
“You’d feel better if you had come to the orientation,” she chided.
“An extra day at school is supposed to make me feel better?”
“Some people like to know where things are.”
“Can’t you home school me?” Nate pleaded.
“You would never do any work.”
“Sounds perfect!”
They were driving along Main through downtown Colson. All along Main Street from Greenway to the hill topped by Mt. Diablo Elementary, the buildings looked like they were trying to belong to the Old West. Most were two stories and made of wood. Some looked like saloons, while others looked like old-fashioned houses. Plank sidewalks connected the businesses, with periodic barrels doubling as trashcans. There was a general store, a dentist’s office, a town museum, a post office, a bar and grill, a craft store, an antique store, and a barbershop with a striped pole out front.
“What time does the Wild West show start?” Nate asked.
“I like this part of town.”
“It looks like Frontierland.”
“A little bit.”
“All they need is a log ride.”
“I’m glad it looks different,” his mom said. “So much of America looks the same nowadays.”
“Because we all live in the same time period.”
“Cut it out. You like it too.”
Nate shrugged.
Main curved up a slope. They turned onto Oak Grove Avenue and pulled into the Mt. Diablo Elementary parking lot. Kids poured out of cars and buses, heading into the school. Nate studied the crowd. Nobody looked too intimidating. Most of the kids were younger than him.