Free Stranded by J. T. Dutton

divide or he had worked his way into general studies as a result of some administrative error or breakdown in the state testing system. I scanned the room for Steve Allen and discovered him lounging handsomely next to a heavyset boy and behind Natalie in relatively the same alignment that he had been in during English the day before. The seat diagonal from his position was empty, so I closed in on it.
    “You can’t sit there.” Natalie spread her arms over the desk’s surface. “That’s Sherry’s seat.”
    I was relieved to see that Natalie looked much less wrung-out than she had when we discussed the beret,but I was irritated that her hands were in my way.
    “Time for a change,” I said.
    “No.” Natalie glanced at her friend, who’d arrived after me.
    “That’s my seat,” Sherry informed me.
    I started to explain that it wasn’t hers unless she was in it.
    “It’s mine,” Sherry insisted.
    “Kelly Louise, stop making a scene,” Natalie scolded.
    Sherry folded her arms. Sherry was like a porcelain doll with springy blonde hair and dimples, and I had a feeling she worked hard to not sound squeaky when she said that she had the spot for the entire year. I told her there was an empty space behind Kenny that she could use. Ms. Duncan lifted a piece of chalk from a plastic cup on her desk and began drawing a diagram on the blackboard.
    “Girl fight!” the boy next to Steve announced. His face was aglow with excitement. Even though it was warm in the classroom, he wore a letterman’s jacket.
    Kenny laid down his pen.
    “We are not going to have a girl fight,” Sherry stated.
    “Jesus,” Kenny whined. “Why not?”
    “Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain,” Sherry snippedat him instead of continuing her conversation with me.
    Sherry’s main weapon for insinuating herself between Natalie and me was pretending I didn’t exist.
    “Jesus Christ.” Kenny asked Sherry, “Is that better?”
    “Shut up.” Sherry tried to make him quit.
    “Shut up.” Kenny curled his hands into fists and copied Sherry’s hand gestures.
    “Shut up! Shut—” she stamped her boot and then stopped herself.
    It was too late. Kenny had reduced her to idiocy too. She didn’t look happy standing in her metaphorical parking lot.
    “You know, I sometimes pray for your soul, Kenneth Stockhausen,” Sherry told him. She placed her fists on her hips so they wouldn’t pop up and down.
    “You can’t pray in school, idiot,” Kenny reminded her.
    An embarrassing trumpetlike blurt rose from my throat, like a bathtub toy when you squeeze it under water. People stared at me because they realized I was laughing at Kenny. I thought he was funny even though I couldn’t afford to take another journey to the outskirts of the school with him. Steve frowned at Kenny as if he wanted to punch him later.
    “Everyone, please.” Ms. Duncan shifted from theboard. She clapped her hands.
    “Just leave and go where you are supposed to go, please,” Natalie pleaded.
    The look on her face suggested that she was six seconds away from losing the composure I admired her for and exploding like a tomato in a microwave. I probably wouldn’t have backed down from Sherry in Des Moines, or needed to be so close to Natalie if I wasn’t keeping an eye on her. I wasn’t sure why I wanted the seat so much. I retreated behind Kenny and pulled my notebook from my backpack. From this angle, Steve could get a better view of my profile.
    Kenny, when I settled in behind him, stared at me as if I had committed a capital crime.
    “You are just going to give up?” he asked about the girl fight.
    Ms. Duncan clapped her hands again.
    Boys like when girls pull each other’s hair and grapple on the floor, and Kenny was obviously disappointed about not getting a show. Without asking, and after Ms. Duncan had turned to the board, he snatched my notebook. He opened to the middle and inspected the doodles I had drawn on the cover and the heart I had drawn over my