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My eyes widen. Fists balled. Blow air through my nostrils. I've never been called "toots" nor "scoot" before, but I suspect they're some kind of insult.

He pays no mind.

"Shouldn't you be heading to school?" I ask eventually, figuring he goes to the same school as me, a new kid in town, lost... and trying to MapQuest the school, using the funkiest looking cell phone ever.

"Not, really no," he answers. Not bothering to look up from the device. He taps it a few time. "Work, damn you!" he mutters to it.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I know enough to do what I gotta do."

"And what's that?"

"Stop Cooties," he answers turning toward me dramatically, and pocketing the device as he does it.

...

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