As I walked into my new classroom for the first time, I felt embarrassed. Everyone in the packed room was staring at me. There didn’t seem to be any place left to sit.
I hated this new school already. I hated always being transferred, my mom always moving to a poor and dangerous new city. Now I was in one of New York City’s worst neighborhoods.
I hated my mom, too, who, I knew, didn’t even love me.
I stood there, feeling like an i***t. I heard laughter and felt sure it was directed at me.
Just as I was getting ready to walk out of the class, and maybe even out of the school, I heard a voice.
“Here.”
I turned.
In the last row, beside the window, a tall boy stood from his desk.
“Sit,” he said. “Please.”
He was gorgeous. He had smooth, olive skin—I couldn’t tell if he was Black, Span
