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“Welcome back, students,” said a female voice. That would be Mrs. Preckwinkle, the school principal. She always sounded like she’d just gotten off the bus from Minnesota. “We hope you’re excited to begin another year here at Pride High, home of the Roaring Lions. Let me begin by reminding everyone of the rules, starting with behavior in the hallway. There is to be no—”

Anthony rolled his eyes and popped his earbuds in, grinning at Omar when his friend heard the music playing. He took out the earbud on that side and offered it to him. Omar stuck it in his own ear without checking for wax. More proof that they were best buds. Mrs. Preckwinkle’s voice was soon drowned out by industrial perfection. Anthony was nodding along to the beat when he noticed Mr. Finnegan watching him. He could swear the teacher smirked before returning his gaze to the ceiling. Maybe he’d turn out to be cool after all.

Anthony kept the music going until Mr. Finnegan pushed himself away from his desk and glanced over at them. Anthony repaid his tolerance by hitting stop on the Walkman and yanking on the cord so the earbuds popped out.

“Okay,” Mr. Finnegan said, sounding exasperated. “With that out of the way, let’s get to know each other. Everyone stand up for me please. Grab your things and move to the back of the classroom.”

Oh yeah. He was definitely going to be one of thoseDead Poets Societyteachers. By the end of class, they’d probably be passing a talking stick around while weeping about their deepest personal tragedies. Or maybe not. Anthony was puzzled and then disheartened as Mr. Finnegan began calling out their names and pointing to seat assignments.

“Anthony Cullen?” Mr. Finnegan said, glancing around until their eyes met and he saw a nod. “Do you go by Tony?”

“Never!”

“That’s fine. Take a seat right there.” One half of the table he gestured to was already occupied by Mindy Beaumont. Anthony looked over at Omar who shrugged helplessly. So much for their plan to hang out together during first period. He forced down a grimace when taking his seat. He and Mindy went way back. She never let him forget how in fourth grade they had—

“My former fiancé!” Mindy said as he plopped down. Shewas a skinny girl with a wavy bob of red hair and two rows of silver braces that she flashed at him. “Looks like we’ll be keeping our vows. Till death do us part!”

For whatever reason, they had pretended to marry each other during recess years ago. Anthony had let himself get roped into playing house with the girls—okay, he actuallylikedplaying with them—and had ended up as Mindy’s bride instead of her husband. Which was the main reason he didn’t like being reminded of it. She was okay though. They didn’t have much in common. Mindy was nice and also fun to talk to, but she wasn’t—

“Omar Jafari?”

“Yup!” his best friend responded.

“Right over here please,” Mr. Finnegan instructed.

The table was one row over and another back, meaning that Anthony wouldn’t be able to see Omar unless he turned around. That sucked. All that remained was to see who his friend got stuck with.

“Tracy Lemont? Tracy? Huh. She’s a no show. Ralph Meyers? Oh wait, he had a schedule change. Let’s see…”

Anthony found himself holding his breath. Which was weird. Why did it matter who Omar ended up with?

Mr. Finnegan was much slower when pronouncing the next name. “Riku Nishikawa?”

“Everyone calls me Ricky,” a voice said.

Anthony craned his neck and saw the same Asian kid that had been tripped in the hall earlier. He was definitely a freshman, judging by how small he was. None of that mattered. What bothered him more was the tremendous sense of relief he felt. Anthony followed it down to the source and mentally recoiled when he discovered the reason. Omar hadn’t been paired with a girl. Anthony was glad. But only because it was the sort of thing that could interfere with their friendship.

“I still have the ring you gave me,” Mindy said. “Remember when we walked to the grocery store after school and bought one from the quarter machines up front?”

“How could I forget?” Anthony joked. “I’m still paying it off in installments.”

They caught up while Mr. Finnegan finished doling out seat assignments. Once he had, the teacher returned to the front of the class to begin his lecture.

“Let’s dive right into what makes good reporting, starting with the Five Ws. Who can tell me what those are? Here’s a hint: I just gave one of them away.”

The class continued in this manner. Anthony’s strongest subject was English. Writing essays had never intimidated him. This shouldn’t be much different.

“Okay,” Mr. Finnegan said when glancing at the clock toward the end of the hour. “That just about does it. I’m not going to give you homework on your first day of school, but Idowant you to think about your next assignment. You’ll be teaming up with the person that you’re seated with. Confer with them and decide what kind of article you’d like to write. Normally, when working with a newspaper editor, you’d be given a specific subject to report on. Not this time. I’d like to know what you feel passionate about. Go ahead and begin discussing it with your partner.”

“Has your number changed?” Mindy asked. She turned an earnest expression on him, her pale skin dotted with freckles. “I could call you tonight so we can discuss it.”

He didn’t remember ever giving her his number, or talking to her on the phone, but that was okay. “Sure. What should our topic be? The exploitation of child labor in modern journalism?”

To his surprise, she understood the root of his sarcasm. “Mr. Finnegan is nice. I had him for English last year. He’ll probably let you switch seats to be with Omar again.”

Wow. Was he that transparent? “We’ll see,” Anthony said. “For now, we’re writing this article together. What should it really be about?”

This made her smile. “I was reading in National Geographic how women in Third World countries spend hours each day walking back and forth to the nearest source of clean water, which prevents them from getting an education or making any real social progress.”