OCDaniel by Wesley King Page B

that I felt in my bones. It didn’t even matter where I was or where I was going. For a second she was everything around me.
    Ahead, two people emerged from a classroom. Sara and Miss Lecky, walking in our direction.
    As we closed in, I glanced at Sara, but she was looking pointedly ahead. Everyone was silent as we passed, and Sara didn’t look at me once. I looked back, but her ponytail just bounced away down the hall. Raya watched her as well.
    â€œDo you ever wonder what’s actually wrong with her?” she asked softly.
    â€œAll the time,” I murmured.
    Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â 
    Sara knocked on my door at five thirty. I was still recovering from another ugly practice. I had missed an extra point kick during a scrimmage, and Coach Clemons had thrown his clipboard across the field and stormed off. Even Max had looked disheartened. I was seriously considering running away to Mexico before the game. In Mexico, football was actually soccer, and I figured maybe I would be better at that.
    And now I had a new problem. I had kind of assumed Sara would stop by after dinner, so I was alarmed when I opened the door and saw her standing there, her arms folded across her chest.
    â€œReady?” she asked tersely.
    â€œUm . . . yes,” I said. “Come in. Did you . . . Where did you tell your mom you were going?”
    â€œI don’t talk to her, dingbat,” she said. “I left a note in my room saying I was going to the library. I do that a lot. No one even wants you to talk there.” She looked past me, frowning. “Are you about to eat?”
    â€œSort of.”
    â€œThat could be awkward. Can you skip it and say we need to study?”
    â€œWay ahead of you.”
    My mom tried to insist that we join them, but I finally managed to convince her that Sara had already eaten and that she had to be home by seven, so we needed to get started. My mom looked past me at Sara, clearly itching to question her, but she gave in. We hurried upstairs before my mom could change her mind.
    Pointedly leaving the door open, I turned to see that Sara was already sitting at my desk, opening my laptop.
    â€œHey,” I said, hurrying over to make sure my book wasn’t open. Thankfully, it was minimized.
    Sara looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Touchy much? I won’t read your writing. But if you let me, that would be a real sign of trust. Star Children are supposed to stick together. It’s one of the tenants.”
    â€œWhat tenants?” I asked incredulously.
    â€œJust some things we are supposed to live by,” she said. “You can read them online. We have to stick together, we have to always pursue truth and justice, we have to trust each other and not be so paranoid when I want to read your writing. . . .”
    I just stared at her.
    â€œFine,” she muttered. “May I use the Internet?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “What are we going to do . . . Google search him?”
    â€œDone that,” she replied. “This time we’re going to do a background check.”
    â€œIs that legal?”
    She glanced at me. “With his permission.”
    â€œAnd we have that?”
    â€œI have all his credit card numbers, Social Security number, and just about everything else we need to impersonate him. I checked his wallet.”
    I frowned as she opened up a web page. WE DO BACKGROUND CHECKS!
    â€œSo why do you need me?”
    â€œBecause you’re going to request that it go to your email as a potential employer,” she said. “My mom insists on checking my emails. And I wanted your permission. Do I have it?”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œGood.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard in a near blur.
    â€œAre you, like . . . a hacker?”
    She laughed. “Not quite. But I probably could be if I wanted to. Password?”
    I didn’t say anything. She