Among the Imposters Read Online Free PDF Page A

pull-up, sit-up, or toe-touch. Once during a nightly session, he dared to mumble, “Leave me alone,” to jackal boy. But when Luke looked up, jackal boy was laughing hysterically.
    “Did you—did you say what I thought—you said?” he sputtered between laughs. “‘Leave me alone.’ Oh, that’s a good one, you stupid fonrol. You going to make me? Go ahead. Make me.”
    Jackal boy had his fists up, a taunting grin smeared across his face. Behind him, their other roommates gathered, eager for a fight. Eager, it seemed, to help jackal boy pound every shred of courage out of Luke.
    Luke sized up the height and weight difference just between him and jackal boy. Never mind the rest of the boys. Nobody had to swing a single punch. Luke’s courage was already gone.
    At least jackal boy tortured Luke only once a day.
    Three times a day, in the cavernous dining hall, Luke longed for food that tasted good. Mouthing bitter greens and mealy bread, he dreamed of Mother’s stews, her biscuits, her apple pies. He could remember the exact sound of her voice asking him, “Want to lick the bowl?” whenever she made a cake. And then the taste of sweet batter.
    He could remember every detail of the one time that he and Jen had made cookies together. They’d used special
     
    chips made of chocolate, and when the cookies were done and hot from the oven, the chips were melted and sweet on his tongue. He and Jen sat in the kitchen laughing and talking and eating cookie after cookie after cookie.
     
    That was one of the best visits he’d ever had with Jen.
    It was also one of the last.
    He tried to forget that, but he couldn’t. He knew that if he sat down in the Hendricks dining hall and someone put a whole plateftil of the Jen cookies in front of him, they’d taste every bit as bitter as the greens. He wouldn’t be able to eat a bite.
    And Mother’s biscuits, flown in fresh—if that were possible—would crumble in his mouth just like the mealy bread. Nothing could taste good when you ate alone in the midst of hundreds of boys who didn’t even know your name. Who didn’t care.
    For Luke wanted a friend at Hendricks, too. Sometimes he forced himself to stop daydreaming and start paying attention to the other boys. He wasn’t brave enough to speak to any of them, but he thought if he listened, then someday...
    He couldn’t tell the boys apart.
    Maybe it had something to do with being in hiding all those years. He wasn’t blind—he could tell that some of them had different-colored hair, even slightly differentcolored skin. Some were taller, some were shorter; some were fatter, some were thinner. Some of them were older eventhan Luke’s brothers; others were a few years younger
     
    than Luke himself. But Luke could never fix any of them in his mind. Even jackal boy was unrecognizable outside of their room. Once he came up to Luke and said, ‘Ah, my servant! Just when I need a pen. Give me yours, kid.” And Luke stared, openmouthed, for so long that jackal boy just eased the pen out of Luke’s hand and headed off, muttering, “Fine time to turn statue on me.”
     
    Another time, during breakfast, he overheard boys jok— ing at a nearby table.
    “Oh, come on, Spence,” one boy said to another.
    Luke stared. Spen Ce, he repeated to himself, memorizing the boy’s features. That boy’s name is Spen ce. Now I know who he is. It gave him a warm glow all morning, to think that he’d be able to recognize somebody now.
    At lunch he watched Spence slip into his seat. Luke practically smiled. Then Spence knocked over his water glass, dousing the boy beside him.
     
    ‘Ted, you lecker!” the other boy exclaimed. Ted? But— At dinner, the boy Luke would have sworn was Spence
     
    looked up when someone called out, “Hey! E. JJ”
     
    ~Not now,” Spence/Ted/E. J. said irritably. Or was he simply E. J., and Spence and Ted were totally different boys?
    Luke gave up trying to keep track of anybody’s names. He thought he