Crazy Dangerous by Andrew Klavan

slowly beginning to return to me. “It’s kind of dumb, I guess,” I said. “I mean, everybody’s congratulating me for getting beaten up!”
    “I don’t think that’s dumb,” said Zoe.
    “You don’t?”
    “No. Under the circumstances, I don’t think it’s dumb at all.”
    Well then, I guess I didn’t think it was dumb either.
    “I bet your parents were really angry about it, though,” Zoe went on. “Especially your dad.”
    “Actually, no, my dad was pretty cool about it. My mom burst into flames a little, but my dad sort of understood.”
    “Wow, really? I would have thought—you know, him being a preacher and all, he’d be all, like, turn the other cheek and everything.”
    “Well, he is, sure. But he says that’s supposed to stop you from fighting out of pride or anger, you know. It’s not supposed to stop you from standing up for what’s right when you have to.”
    “Huh,” she said. “That is cool.”
    We turned a corner and started down the hall toward our classroom.
    “You know what’s kind of funny?” Zoe went on. “I always felt a little nervous about talking to you because of your dad.”
    “Really? I always kind of wondered about that . . .”
    “Yeah, I don’t know why. I guess . . . I guess I sort of felt like because you were all, like, religious and everything, maybe you’d expect people to be perfect . . .”
    She turned that smile of hers on me, not to mention those green eyes, and I wanted to tell her she actually was perfect. But instead I said, “Look, could you do me a favor?”
    “Sure. I guess. Like what?”
    “Just . . . don’t be nervous around me anymore. Okay? Because if you’re nervous, then I get nervous, and when I get nervous I act all stupid and then you’ll think I’m stupid when I’m really just nervous because you’re nervous.”
    Zoe nodded thoughtfully. “I have no idea what you just said.”
    “No, me either. But that sort of proves my point.”
    She laughed. “Okay. I guess I won’t be nervous then. And you won’t expect me to be perfect.”
    “Right,” I said. Although you are , I thought. Only I didn’t say that, because I was too nervous.
    Zoe and I were both smiling as we walked into the classroom. In fact, to be honest, I went on smiling a long time after that. In fact, I had to force the smile off my face eventually so I wouldn’t look like a clown with rigor mortis.
    But the smile kept coming back. Especially after school was over and I was biking home by myself. I kept thinking about the day—thinking about it so much I almost forgot how sore I was, almost forgot how much every part of my body was throbbing and hurting. Almost. I kept seeing images of the kids applauding outside the school . . . Mark Sales bumping fists with me and telling me Jeff wouldn’t bother me anymore . . . And Zoe and me walking to class together . . . And Mark and Justin and me having lunch . . . And Zoe and me walking to class together . . . although maybe I already mentioned that.
    Anyway, I was smiling and remembering as I was biking home thinking about it all.
    And then a strange thing happened.
    I had just come onto Maple Street, my street, only a couple of blocks from where I live. The afternoon was cloudy, gray, getting dark kind of early. There was a wind rising and it looked like it was going to rain. This one stretch of Maple I was on was thick with trees, but there weren’t that many houses. With the sky getting dark and the dead winter branches swaying and whispering in the wind, it was a little bit spooky-looking.
    Maybe it was just because of that, but I began to feel that somebody was watching me. I had that feeling you get, you know, on the back of your neck, when somebody stares at you from behind. I glanced over my shoulder, but there was nobody there.
    I didn’t stop. I figured I was just letting myself get spooked. In spite of what Mark said, I guess I was still a little worried about Jeff, worried he might wait for me in some