Among the Imposters (4 page)

chips made of chocolate, and when the cookies were done and hot from the oven, the chips were melted and sweet on his tongue. He and Jen sat in the kitchen laughing and talking and eating cookie after cookie after cookie.

That was one of the best visits he’d ever had with Jen.

It was also one of the last.

He tried to forget that, but he couldn’t. He knew that if he sat down in the Hendricks dining hall and someone put a whole plateftil of the Jen cookies in front of him, they’d taste every bit as bitter as the greens. He wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.

And Mother’s biscuits, flown in fresh—if that were possible—would crumble in his mouth just like the mealy bread. Nothing could taste good when you ate alone in the midst of hundreds of boys who didn’t even know your name. Who didn’t care.

For Luke wanted a friend at Hendricks, too. Sometimes he forced himself to stop daydreaming and start paying attention to the other boys. He wasn’t brave enough to speak to any of them, but he thought if he listened, then someday...

He couldn’t tell the boys apart.

Maybe it had something to do with being in hiding all those years. He wasn’t blind—he could tell that some of them had different-colored hair, even slightly differentcolored skin. Some were taller, some were shorter; some were fatter, some were thinner. Some of them were older eventhan Luke’s brothers; others were a few years younger

than Luke himself. But Luke could never fix any of them in his mind. Even jackal boy was unrecognizable outside of their room. Once he came up to Luke and said, ‘Ah, my servant! Just when I need a pen. Give me yours, kid.” And Luke stared, openmouthed, for so long that jackal boy just eased the pen out of Luke’s hand and headed off, muttering, “Fine time to turn statue on me.”

Another time, during breakfast, he overheard boys jok— ing at a nearby table.

“Oh, come on, Spence,” one boy said to another.

Luke stared.
Spen
Ce,
he repeated to himself, memorizing the boy’s features.
That boy’s name is Spen ce. Now I know who he is.
It gave him a warm glow all morning, to think that he’d be able to recognize somebody now.

At lunch he watched Spence slip into his seat. Luke practically smiled. Then Spence knocked over his water glass, dousing the boy beside him.

‘Ted, you lecker!” the other boy exclaimed.
Ted? But—
At dinner, the boy Luke would have sworn was Spence

looked up when someone called out, “Hey! E. JJ”

~Not now,” Spence/Ted/E. J. said irritably. Or was he simply E. J., and Spence and Ted were totally different boys?

Luke gave up trying to keep track of anybody’s names. He thought he noticed other boys responding to multiple names, too, but he could never be sure.

Why was he so easily confused?

It was like the halls of the school, which always seemed to double back on themselves. From one day to the next, Luke could rarely find his way to the same classroom twice. So it didn’t matter that he was never sure which class he was supposed to be sitting in—he’d never be able to get to the right place, anyhow. The teachers didn’t seem to notice Luke, or anyone else. They’d occasionally point at a boy and declare, “Two demerits,” but they almost never called anyone by name.

Luke wondered about sneaking up to his room during classtime, and reading the note from Jen’s dad, since nobody cared where he was, anyway. But the hail monitors guarded the stairs, too. They guarded everything.

So, Luke reflected gloomily, the note that could save him was doomed to turn to lint in his pocket. And Luke was doomed to endlessly wander the halls of Hendricks, unnoticed, unknowing, unknown.

In bed at night. Luke took to having imaginary conversations with his family, Jen, Jen’s dad. His part was all apologies.

I’m sorry, Mr. Talbot. You risked your life to get me a fake I.D., and I ~asn’t worth it....

I’m sorry, len, I’m not doing anything for the........

I’m sorry, Mother.
This was the hardest one of all.
You wanted me to stay but I said I had to go. I said I was going to make a difference in the world. But I can’t I wanted to make sure there was enough food for everyone in the world, so third children could be legal again. But I can’t

even understand a word my teachers say. Even the ones who are speaking my language. Ill never learn anything. I’ll never be able to help anyone.

I’m sorry, Mother. I should have never left you. I wish—
But Luke wished for so much, he couldn’t go on. He was so busy longing for big, impossible changes, he

never gave a thought to wanting anything smaller or more practical. Like an open door.

But that was what he got.

Seven

Luke saw the door one morning on the way to class. He’d barely slept the night before, so he was groggy and stupid. He was shuffling along looking for a familiar classroom to duck into before the hall monitor yelled at him. Between classrooms, he stared down at his feet, too miserable to lift his head. But just as he turned a corner, someone bumped into him. Luke looked up in time to see the other boy barrel past without an apology. Then, as Luke turned his head forward again, he saw it.

The door was on the outside wall. Luke couldn’t have said if he’d passed it a hundred times before, or never. It was solid wood with a brass knob, just like dozens of other doors in the school. It was barely even ajar.

But beyond it, Luke could see grass and trees and sky. Outdoors.

He didn’t think. He didn’t even pause to make sure a hall monitor wasn’t watching him. In a flash, Luke was out the door.

Outside, Luke stood still, his back to the wall of the school. He was breathing hard.
Read the note and get back

inside!
some tiny, rational part of his brain urged him.
Before someone sees you!

But he couldn’t move. It was May. The lawn ahead of him was a rich green carpet. Redbuds were blooming, and lilacs. He thought he even smelled honeysuckle. His mind played a trick on him, and suddenly he was almost a whole year back in time, standing outside for what he had thought might be the last time in his entire life. The Government workers were just starting to cut down the woods behind his family’s house, and his mother was fearfully ordering him, Luke! Inside. Now.’

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

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.

Nine

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