The classroom noises settled, and still nobody came to say, “Do you want to work with me?” They were all paired up.

Fine, Jeremy thought. I don’t care. I don’t need a partner. But even as he lifted his chin, he felt his shoulders droop. A prickly feeling at the back of his eyes forced him to blink. He took a deep breath and sat up. I am not gonna cry. Not on the second day in this school. Not ever.

He glanced up to find Mr. Collins watching. Would he say, “we’re going to rethink the partners you’ve chosen?” Or something else … anything that would mean he wouldn’t have to be the one left over.

Mr. Collins’ gaze turned to Aaron. Oh no. No. Not Aaron. The teacher raised an eyebrow. “Well, Jeremy,” he said, you and Aaron seem to be the only people without partners. Since you’re the keeper of Aaron’s mealworm, you get to decide if you’re willing to work with him or if you’d rather keep both worms and work alone.”

There was a howl of protest from Aaron, but Mr. Collins kept his eyes on Jeremy, who was beginning to feel that everybody else was watching too.

“Loser,” Tufan called out.

Jeremy’s stomach clenched at the word, but it was Aaron who began to screech, “Am not! Am not! Am not a loser! I’m smart. I’m smart! I’m smarter than you are!”

There were snickers.

“That’s enough,” Mr. Collins said firmly, and he frowned at Tufan. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said. Then he turned back to Jeremy.

“Well, Jeremy?” he asked.

Jeremy looked over at Aaron, who was now tapping his pencil against the edge of his desk. “Can … can I work alone?” Jeremy began. “Can I work alone if it turns out we don’t work well together?”

“I can live with that,” Mr. Collins said. “Can you, Aaron?”

Aaron shoved the eraser end of his pencil right up inside his nose and grinned like a gargoyle.