Margaret Haddix: Among the Imposters

And when the woods were gone, Jen’s house replaced it.

His mind skipped ahead, and he remembered his first trip to Jen’s house. He’d stepped outside and felt paralyzed, just like now. And he’d marveled at the feel of fresh air on his face, just like now.

And he’d been in danger.

Just like now.

Luke looked back at the school, hopelessly. Anyone could easily look out a window and see him, and report him. Maybe they’d just give him more of those meaningless demerits. Or maybe this would make them realize that he really wasn’t Lee Grant, that his papers were forged, that by the laws of the land, he deserved to die.

Strangely, Luke could see no windows. But the door was opening.

Luke took off running. He raced as blindly as he had that first day, trying to keep up with Rolly Sturgeon. Luke was crashing through the undergrowth of a small woods before his mind fully registered that there was a woods. Brambles tore at his arms and legs and chest, and he kept running. He whipped willow branches out of his way. He was so frenzied, he felt like he could run forever.

Then he tripped over a log and fell.

Silence. Only now that he’d stopped did Luke realize how much noise he’d been making. So stupid. Luke lay facedown in ferns and moss, and waited for someone to grab him and yell and punish him.

Nothing happened. Over the pounding of his pulse, Luke could hear nothing but birdsong. After what seemed like a very long time, he cautiously raised his head.

Trees formed a canopy over his head. A flash of movement caught Luke’s eye, but it was only a squirrel jumping from branch to branch. Branches swayed, but only because of the wind.

Slowly, Luke inched back the way he had come. Finally he crouched, hidden by the underbrush, and spied on the school.

Nobody was in sight.

Luke peered at the door. It moved out again, and he stiffened, terrified. But then it moved in.

In, out, in, out — so slow — it was like the school was breathing through the door. Suddenly Luke understood.

Nobody had pushed the door open. It was the wind, or maybe the change in air pressure as the boys walked past.

Luke stuck his head out a little further. He could see one whole side of the school building this way. And he realized for the first time: There were no windows in any. part of the wall. It was solid brick, up and down.

How could that be?

Luke thought about all of the rooms he’d been in, since coming to Hendricks, and it was true — he couldn’t remember a single window in any of them. Even the room he shared with jackal boy and his minions was windowless. Why hadn’t he ever noticed before?

And why would someone build so many windowless rooms?

Suddenly Luke didn’t care. There were no windows, nobody was coming out of the door — he was safe.

‘I can read the note now!” he said aloud, and chuckled. It was strangely thrilling to hear his own voice — not timid, not stammering — Luke’s voice, not the pretend-Lee’s.

‘I’m going to read it right over there!” he said, speaking just for the pleasure of it. “Finally!”

He strolled deeper into the woods, and sat down on the very log he’d tripped over before. Slowly, ceremoniously, he slipped the note from Jen’s dad out of his pocket. Now he would know everything he needed to do.

He unfolded the note, which had grown worn from all the times he’d palmed it, secretly transferring it from the pocket of one pair of pants to another. Then he stared, trying to make sense of Mr. Talbot’s scrawl.

The note only held two words:

BLEND IN

“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.

Luke wouldn’t have thought he could have fallen asleep there in the woods, in danger, boiling mad. But somehow he found himself waking up some time later, stiff and sore and confused. The birds were still singing, a mild breeze ruffled his hair — before he remembered everything, Luke actually smiled. What a pleasant dream. But why did he feel so unhappy?

Then he sat up and opened his eyes and everything came back to him. The note he’d believed in so fervently was worthless dust now — no matter how hard he peered off into the underbrush, he couldn’t see a single sign of it. He was out in the woods, violating who knew how many rules of the Hendricks School for Boys. And he had no idea how long he’d been gone — squinting at the sun, Luke guessed that it was at least mid-afternoon. They must have noticed him missing by now. He should be thinking up his excuse now. He should sneak back so at least they wouldn’t find him out here. It wouldn’t look so bad. Maybe he could convince them that he’d started to run away — the real Lee Grant had done that, supposedly — then repented and turned around. But that story depended on him going back now.

Luke didn’t move.

He didn’t want to go back to school. Not now, not ever. There wasn’t anything there for him. He knew that now. No friends, no helpful teachers, no good choices. He was just like some windup toy there, marching mindlessly from class to class, meal to meal, trying not to be watched.

Just the thought of school made his stomach churn.

“You can’t make me go back,” Luke muttered, though he wasn’t sure who he thought he was defying.

That was settled. So where else could he go?

Home.

Luke was overcome with a stronger longing than he’d ever felt before. To see Mother again, to see Dad… This was how miserable Luke felt: He even missed his brothers. He watched a chipmunk race across the ground. The chipmunk’s feet barely seemed to touch. It could be just that easy for Luke, going home. All he had to do was start walking.

But.

He didn’t know how to get there. Even if he had a map, he wouldn’t be able to find his parents’ farm on it.

He didn’t have his fake I.D. card with him. He didn’t carry it at school. He could picture it clearly, tucked in the pocket at the back of his suitcase. He couldn’t go back for it. And getting caught without an I.D. card was as good as admitting, “I’m a third child. Kill me.”