She didn’t know Rick well enough to call him a friend, but he sat in front of her and once even defended her. When prissy Julie Stork wouldn’t lend Annabeth a pencil for a pop quiz, he’d said, “Jeez, what’s the big deal? It’s just a crummy pencil.” That small remark had made Annabeth like him right then and there. Rick was friendly to most, but didn’t belong to anyone or any group. Every day at lunch, he leaned against the soft-drink machine on the west wall of the cafeteria, taking in the scenes around him. He looked so cool and steady as he nodded slightly at people walking by him. The week before, some jocks hung tiny Ory Moser on the flagpole in front of the school. Students in parked buses howled as they got a close-up view of Ory dangling from his belt loop like a marionette. His face turned as flaming red as his hair. It was Rick who grabbed Ory’s legs, releasing him from the flagpole. “You stupid assholes!” he’d yelled. “Don’t you know how to act when you aren’t holding a ball?”
