100 Days Read Online Free PDF Page B

disease.” Then Moira and I became friends, and Moira became the freak, taking all eyes off me and onto herself. For years now, Moira has been protecting me almost constantly, in ways big and small. The question is, who protects Moira?
    The pastrami smell is getting to me. My stomach does a nauseated little flip. “You need to do something,” I tell Principal Weaver.
    â€œWe’ll get on it,” he says. “Trust me.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œYou can rest assured I will be speaking to Boone Craddock as soon as possible.”
    â€œOkay then.” I put the wig back on and hold out a hand for him to shake, which he does. Then the principal follows me out into the hallway and watches as I turn on my heel and march away from the office. Before pushing through the doors separating the administrative building from the rest of the school, I glance back at him with what I can only hope is a don’t make me come back here look in my eye.
    Sure enough, Weaver gives me a quick but formal military salute.

 
    10
    BOONE
    DAY 91: MARCH 26
    You wouldn’t think it would be hard work setting up temporary housing for a bunch of chicks and rabbits, but it is. I’m on hour two of pouring poultry starter into feeders, making sure the water containers aren’t full enough to drown the babies, transferring this last batch of chicks from their shipping boxes to their correct holding bins, and double-checking the heat lamps. I head into the storage room, where my boss, TJ, keeps the big steel trough that needs to be set up with shavings, water, and alfalfa for the last of the “Easter bunnies.” People will buy them for their kids on impulse today and then abandon the rabbits at shelters or turn them loose in the forest, where they’ll make easy prey once the kids get sick of taking care of them.
    God, I hate my own species sometimes.
    About an hour before my shift ends, TJ tells me that Cheyenne, one of the cutesy rodeo queens who works the register (and who also happens to have TJ wrapped around her finger), wants to get her older brother a job. Turns out I am—big surprise—the most disposable employee. Not that TJ uses those exact words. He doesn’t have to. My place in the Feed & Seed pecking order is glaringly obvious.
    â€œCheyenne’s brother is twenty, and he’s not in school anymore,” TJ says. We’re standing in the hay barn, where I’ve been stacking the truckload of alfalfa bales that came in from Colorado last night. “He can work hours you can’t. We have to prioritize guys who can do that.”
    I hope my boss doesn’t notice the sudden cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Hay dust turns to a thin layer of green paste in the creases of my skin. “What if I can get out of school early? Maybe I can take a work-study elective.”
    â€œCan you do that as a sophomore?”
    I look down at the ground and give a weak shrug. “You never know.”
    â€œIt’ll all work out,” TJ says, clapping me on the arm. “For now, just start coming in every other weekend, and we’ll go from there.”
    Easy for you to say, I think. More than anything, I wish I could tell TJ where to shove his every other weekend. I wish I could walk out of here with my middle finger high in the air and never look back. I’m not a total fool, though. It’s not like anyone else is going to hire me, and I doubt TJ would give me a good reference if I walked out. The sad truth is that TJ took me on as an act of charity. It’s only my strong back and work ethic that have kept me in part-time hours this long. Still, I have to say something.
    â€œWith all due respect, sir, I don’t think those hours are going to be enough.”
    TJ, who was walking back toward the store entrance, stops and turns around. “Well, it’s what I can offer you.” His voice is sharper than it was a minute ago. “Your father