Luke was willing to believe any of those rumors. But as far as he knew, he was the only boy in the school who had actually met Smits.

“What’s he really like?” They asked as he poked his fork at the tasteless heap of boiled greens on his plate. “Is he truly awful?”

Luke chewed for a minute and swallowed, glad for once that the food was so stringy and tough. It gave him time to think. He shrugged, trying for nonchalance.

“Well, he’s my brother,” Luke said. “Aren’t most brothers awful?”

They snorted. “Your brother — right. So why didn’t you bring a computer and a TV? Why don’t you have a private room? Why are you eating this slop when you could be having — I don’t know — caviar? Foie gras?”

Luke didn’t have the slightest idea what caviar or foie gras was, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He could feel the whole tableful of boys watching him, waiting for his response. He shrugged again.

“Guess I’m just not as picky as he is,” Luke said. “Guess I’m a nicer person.

Luke was relieved that the other boys had stopped staring at him. Instead, their gaze was trained just beyond him, right over his head.

“Lee,” someone said.

Luke whirled around and saw what the others were looking at It was Smits. Luke felt his face go red. How much had Smits heard?

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Smits asked coldly. He slid into a seat beside Luke. The other boys scrambled to make room for him, as if the table actually belonged to Smits and they were just grateful that he wasn’t ordering them away entirely.