For Brent that first day back at school was... interesting. It became clear very early in the day that everyone had seen the paper - and that they knew exactly who was shown in that photo. His teachers all made a point of acting like nothing had happened. In English class Miss Holman didn't even look up when he slipped in and took his seat. For every class after that it was much the same. The teachers barely acknowledged his existence. When he held up his hand they called on somebody else. When class ended, they bent quickly over their desks and made a show of working on papers. The teachers knew something had changed but they didn't want to acknowledge it.
The students, however, reacted differently.
In every class - in every hallway - in the lunchroom - he was the center of attention. At lunch he got his macaroni and cheese and his chocolate milk like everyone else and went to sit down. Normally, because your popularity was determined by who you sat with and what table you had, it was next to impossible to find a good seat. That day when Brent looked around for a place to sit, an entire table opened up. It wasn't that kids got up to make room for him. Everyone just seemed to slide down a space or two and suddenly there was a whole table that wasn't being used.
He sat down and unwrapped his plastic knife and fork. He bumped his tray and it made a clinking noise as the plate jumped. The cafeteria fell silent.
Which was weird. Normally you couldn't hear yourself think in there. A couple hundred kids who had been quiet all morning in class suddenly had a chance to talk to each other and the resulting noise was, well, loud.
Now you could hear every time somebody shifted in their seat and their clothes rustled.
Brent looked up and around at the people sitting near him. A lot of them were looking down at their own trays. A lot of them were looking at each other. Which was how it should be. But then - a sizeable minority of them were looking right at him. Staring at him.
As if they thought he might do something interesting, and they didn't want to miss it when it happened.
He finished his lunch as quickly as he could and headed for his locker. Lucy was waiting for him there, but before he could reach it he had to pass by a group of girls who were all walking together, clutching their books against their sweaters. He saw the way their hair shone as it bounced with each step. He could see their white teeth gleaming as they smiled. One blonde girl turned and whispered something to a brunette, who promptly blushed. They were popular girls and they had never looked at him before, but now their eyes followed him as he walked toward them.
"Hi, Brent," the blonde said. Her name was Jill Hennessey, and she was the richest girl in the school. He knew she was also dating the captain of the soccer team. And now she was smiling at him.
She was a senior. It did not make any sense. He was a sophomore, and therefore did not exist yet in the school's social ladder.
The brunette giggled. Her name was Dana Kravitz and she was the captain of the school's color guard. She was only a junior but Jill had taken her on as a protege and now she was the second most popular girl in school. A week ago he would have bet good money she didn't even know his name. Now she caught his eye for just a fraction of a second, blushed again, and looked down at her boots.
"Hi," he said, and every pair of eyes went wide. Some of the girls, hangers-on in Jill and Dana's circle, straightened up as if they were coming to attention. The girls didn't stop walking but it seemed to Brent they had slowed down to a lazy stroll. He had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"Uh, how's it going?" Brent asked.
"Us? We're fabulous. And you? Are you glad to be back among us?" Jill asked. She and her friends were even with him now and they had to turn their heads to keep looking at him.
Brent shrugged. "Sure. Well, um, I guess I'll see you around," he said.
"Definitely," Jill said, and walked past him. The circle followed - but Dana Kravitz glanced back over her shoulder and made eye contact with him again. And blushed. Again.
When he got to his locker Lucy was bouncing up and down in impatience. "I have to get to social studies," she said, "but I have so got a mission for you."
"A mission?" Brent asked. He had no idea what she was talking about. "Did you just see - that was Jill Hennessey and Dana Kravitz, right? I didn't just think it was them?"
"Yes, I did see. I saw how shameless they were, definitely. I think you're absolutely right that they were looking at you, and that that's something they would not have done before, which I think should tell you something very important about girls like that."
Brent shook his head as he worked the combination of his locker. "It's amazing, isn't it? I mean, I haven't actually done anything. I still feel like the same person. But everybody's acting so weird."
"Yes, those girls are weird," Lucy confirmed. "But you know how it is. School can be very boring and we all get excited when something new happens, and now you're the flavor of the week. I wouldn't get your hopes up about Jill and Dana, Brent. They're interested now, but how long could that possibly last? If I were you I would focus more on girls in your own social circle, you know, girls who have known you your whole life and always found you interesting and attractive, even before you became a celebrity, girls who - "
"Oh, come on, Luce," Brent said. "There aren't any girls in this school like that. You're right. I'm just - " he thought of Weathers sitting in his kitchen, " - front page news. In a week or so they'll probably walk right past me again and not even say hi. So what's this mission?"
"Mission?" Lucy asked. There was something wrong with her face. Her mouth was all bunched up and she had her eyes closed. Like she was about to cry, or sneeze or something. Then she opened her eyes again and nodded and got back to business. "Yes. Your mission. Should you choose to accept it, ha ha ha. Yes. I thought - I mean I'm not sure how you want to handle this, but you are who you are now and there are certain things that will be expected of you, certain stereotypes you're going to be measured against and I figured it might be good to get started right away - "
"Started with what?" Brent asked.
"Fighting crime, of course."
Brent laughed. Then he looked at her face. And laughed again. But she was serious. "Crime. Here at the school? Is somebody stealing extra composition notebooks out of the supply closet?"
"It's a little worse than that," Lucy told him.
Completely serious.
