Among the Imposters

Eight

“No!” Luke screamed.

That was it? “Blend in”? What kind of advice was that? Luke needed help. He’d been waiting weeks.

“I was counting on you!” Luke screamed again, past caring who might hear.

The “B” on “Blend” blurred before his eyes. Desperately, he turned the note over, hoping there was more on the other side. The real message, maybe. But the other side was blank. What he held was just a small, ragged scrap of paper, not much more than lint. Even Mother — who saved everything, who reused envelopes — even she wouldn’t think twice about tossing this useless shred in the trash.

And this tiny piece of nothing was what Luke had pinned all his hopes on.

Too furious to see straight, Luke ripped the note in half. In fourths. In eighths. He kept ripping until the pieces of paper were all but dust. Practically microscopic. Then he threw them as far away as he could.

“I hate you, Mr. Talbot!” Luke yelled.

The words echoed in the trees. Even the woods seemed to be making fun of him. That was probably all Mr. Talbot had meant to do, too, when he’d handed Luke the note that first day Luke could just imagine Mr. Talbot chuckling as he drove away from Hendricks after leaving Luke. He probably thought it was funny to drop off a dumb farm boy at a snobby Baron school and tell him, “Blend in.” He probably laughed about it all the time. If Jen were still alive, she probably would have laughed at Luke, too.

No. Not Jen…

Luke buried his face in his hands and slipped down to the ground, sprawled beside the log. Without the note to count on, he didn’t even have enough backbone of his own to sit.