One of the two beds in the room was under the window. From the rumpled look, and a couple of burn marks on the sheets, I figured it was Torchie’s. The other bed, along the opposite wall, was unmade, but a pile of sheets and blankets were stacked on it, along with a photocopied booklet that said Welcome to Edgeview on the cover. I took a quick glance through the booklet, saw nothing important, then tossed it into the small garbage can next to the bed. There wasn’t much else in the room, just two old wooden desks, two small dressers, also made of wood, a pair of lamps, and a closet. A picture of Mars, torn from a magazine, was taped to one wall near the foot of Torchie’s bed. Great. Except for the lamps and garbage can, everything in the room looked flammable. To top it off, the place already smelled like the inside of a fireplace. I tossed my bag to the floor by the closet.
“What are you here for?” Torchie asked.
“What do you care?” I asked back.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just wondering. Figured, being roommates and all, I should get to know you. And maybe you’d want to know about me. Some of the people here aren’t too friendly. Not me. I like people.”
I held up my hand to shut him off. “I’m here because I seem to have a bit of a problem respecting authority. That’s how they put it. Well, that’s how the polite ones put it. I’ve also been called a major pain in the butt, a disturbing influence, a smart mouth, and a snotty-nosed little puke, among other things.” I didn’t bother adding some of Dad’s more colorful phrases. There was no point telling this fire freak my life’s story. Not that he’d care.
I stared at the charred pieces of papers scattered around the desk and the bits of extinguisher foam dripping slowly onto the rug. What a mess. It looked like a giant cow had let loose with one monster of a sneeze. “And you’re here because you have a hard time with math, right?”
“Huh?” Poor Torchie seemed a bit puzzled.
“Just kidding.” I could see this was going to be a lot of fun. I reached down toward my bag. But I didn’t want to unpack yet. That would make it real. “So, you feel like showing me around? Principal Davis didn’t exactly give me a detailed introduction to the place.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Torchie led me into the hall and started giving me the tour of Edgeview Alternative School.
MEMO PAD ON PRINCIPAL DAVIS’S DESK
FROM DALE BRIGGS’S NOTEBOOK
TAKING THE TOUR
“Lip and Bloodbath live in that room,” Torchie told me, pointing to a door near the stairs. “Lip’s no problem by himself. Heck, he’s almost a midget. But Bloodbath likes to beat on people. He’s in our grade, but he’s almost sixteen. Keep out of his way.”
“Thanks.” This was useful information. It was nice knowing where the toilets were and stuff like that, but I was a lot more interested in learning who could hurt me. “Why do they call him Bloodbath?”
“That’s his last name.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” Torchie said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s Lester Bloodbath.”
“Anyone call him Lester?” I asked.
“Nobody who’s still alive.” Torchie shrugged, then led me around the rest of the hall, telling me who was in most of the rooms. There were a lot of nicknames, none of which I’d be proud to own. One kid was called Goober Gobble, for reasons I wouldn’t want to think about on an empty stomach. And there was the unfortunate Patrick Pardeau, who had to go through every day of his life being greeted with his initials. “Hi, PeePee.”
“That’s Waylon,” Torchie whispered, pointing to a small kid who was walking down the hall away from us. “But we call him Hindenburg.”
“Why?” I asked.
Torchie grinned. “You know what the Hindenburg was?”
“An airship. Like a blimp, except it’s rigid,” I said, remembering a picture I’d seen. “It’s a bag full of gas.”
“Yup,” Torchie said. “And so’s Waylon.”
“That little guy?”
Torchie nodded. “He’s deadly. Don’t ever get in a small space near him. Especially when they serve cabbage or beans at lunch.” He stuck out his tongue and made a farting sound.
Call me weak—I laughed. I also felt relieved. With Hindenburg labeled as the school’s gas man, there’s no way I’d get stuck with a nickname like Fartin’ Martin. Not that I had any problem in that area, but the easy rhyme made that sort of thing a danger.
Torchie introduced me to several kids, but my brain was already getting overloaded with names and faces, so none of it really stuck right away. I’d guess most of them didn’t remember my name, either. Not that I’d expect them to. All in all, it was kind of a relief actually meeting some of the students. I’d figured I was getting dumped on an island filled with nothing but ax murderers and cannibals. So far, I hadn’t seen either. Just seventh, eighth, and ninth graders.