A Tragic Kind of Wonderful. Eric Lindstrom

day until I think my oppressors must be sitting down, and then I wait another few minutes, just in case. From the lunch line, I see them at a different table than either of the days before.

       As soon as I sit, wondering what Mom would think of the corn dog on my tray, the four girls appear again.

       “This is our table.”

       They actually got up and came over this time.

       I start to stand but get stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I look up and see a blond with a French braid beside me.

       “Scooch,” she says, pushing me sideways hard enough that I instinctively move over.

       She plops down and clatters her tray on the table. Another girl sits on my right, close enough that I’m squeezed between them, shoulder to shoulder. All I can see of this other girl is a wall of straight black hair draped down to her black hoodie.

       “Oh, I’m sorry,” the blond says to the four. “Are we interrupting?”

       “It’s too sunny here,” the tallest harasser says to her friend who’d been talking before. They leave without acknowledging us further, like we’d vanished.

       “What’s your name?” the blond asks me.

       “Mel.”

       “Like Melody, or Melanie?”

       “Just Mel.”

       “Okay … weird. Anyway, I’m Annie, really Ann, but call me Annie because Ann sounds too … you know. This is Zumi, really Izumi, but call her Zumi. I think it’s because she used to zoom around a lot when she was little, and … well …” Annie frowns. “Sometimes she still does. And this …” She twists around and waves impatiently for someone to come over. “This is Connor.”

       A guy walks over and sits across from us. He doesn’t look up from his tray but he seems relaxed.

       “The tall one’s Gloria Fernandez,” Annie says. “The one who does most of the talking is Tina Fernandez, but they’re not related. The other two are Elena and Sofia. They’re just minions. Gloria’s the leader and Tina’s her muscle. Like you’re my muscle, right, Zumi?”

       Zumi turns toward me. Her face is tipped down, but unlike Connor, she looks at me intently, like something creepy from those Japanese horror movies Nolan liked.

       “If Team Fernandez ever looks at you again,” Zumi says, “tell them you’re with us: Annie, Zumi, and Connor. They’ll leave you alone.”

       She says their names all together like a law firm, like how Dad is a part of Jensen, Hannigan, and Hsu. Maybe Zumi’s mom or dad’s a lawyer, too. Looking around at them, I think they could also be called Sunny, Sullen, and Shy.

      Zumi’s still scowling. There are big white letters on her sweatshirt, all caps: DON’T ASK. I wonder what it means … but … there’s no way to find out. Is that the point, like a joke, or …?

       She winks. It’s so sudden and unexpected, it makes me laugh. Not Sullen after all.

       Zumi points at the untouched corn dog on my tray. “You gonna eat that?”

       I wasn’t keen on it but the breaded fish option looked worse. And I guess she wants it. Will I have to pay for this new friendship? Or at least the protection? I shake my head and slide the tray toward Zumi.

       She shoves it away down the length of the table. “I was just making sure you weren’t going to eat it.” She smiles. “They taste like shit.”

       The next day, I wait in the bathroom stall again before lunch. Yesterday seems ages ago and a little unreal. I don’t know when Annie, Zumi, and Connor will arrive. Even then, what if they’ve forgotten all about me?

       I carry my tray slowly by them.

       “Mel!” Zumi says. She slides over to make room. “We’re right here! Sit down!”

       For the first twenty minutes, Annie does most of the talking. It’s a combination of random bits of everything and filling in basics we didn’t cover yesterday. Then she gets an idea.

       “Let’s ride bikes on the beach trail this Saturday.”

       I don’t want to say no to my first invitation, but my bike rusted out and got left behind in the move. Nolan’s bike is fine and parked in the garage, but I’ve never ridden it alone.

       “I don’t have a bike.”

       “Borrow one,” Annie says, as if this were obvious. “You have sisters or brothers?”

       I shake my head.

       “God, you’re lucky.”

       Connor glances up briefly at Zumi and smirks.

       Zumi nods slightly. Then she casually says to Annie, “What about your old bike?”

       “No, I gave it to Lulu.”

       “Your mom just got her a new one,” Zumi says. “Let’s ask her—”

       “No, it’s … it’s got a flat tire. We can just walk to the beach; it’s fine. I guess you’re closest, Mel. We’ll meet at your place.”

       If we end up doing this a lot, they’ll probably see Nolan’s bike at some point …

      “Well, there is a bike in my garage,” I say. “It’s … my cousin’s. But it’s too big.”

       “Oh, that’s no problem!” Annie says, brightening. “Zumi’s brother taught her all about bikes. You’re, what, five-seven, five-eight? Probably just need to lower the seat, right, Zumi?”

      “I don’t know without seeing it,” Zumi says to Annie. “But I know I can fix the flat on your old bike.”

       Connor’s shoulders bounce. He’s looking at his lasagna, picking at it. I think he’s snickering.

       “No,” Annie says, annoyed. “It’s not—” She stops and looks pointedly at Connor. “What?”

       He doesn’t answer. Zumi leans toward me and says in a low voice, “Lulu’s only eleven and Annie’s afraid of her.”

       “I am not,” Annie says, more indignant than defensive.

       “Okay,” Zumi says. “It’s just that Annie can’t stop Lulu from following her everywhere, so she has to sneak out of the house. She can’t do that if we all go over there.”

       Annie just stares at Zumi like she’s waiting for her to finish.

       “I can try and adjust your cousin’s bike,” Zumi says. “Do you want me to?”

       I nod.

       “Okay, I’ll come over before the weekend, in case it takes a while.”

       “Thanks.”

      Zumi points a thumb toward Annie and says to me, “But don’t you think sneaking around means you’re afraid of something?”

       I don’t think she’s really needling Annie; it seems more like affectionate teasing. Annie stares over our heads,