Blue Is for Nightmares Read Online Free PDF Page B

be embarrassed," Drea says. "Stacey already saw it and I forwarded the link to Amber. Couldn't resist. Too cute."
    I'm not even sure he's still listening to her. He unzips his backpack, plucks out his English notebook, and folds it open to some notes on Beowulf.
    "Put that away" Drea snatches the notes away. "This isn't the library. Besides, so rude. It's lunch time and we're trying to have some intellectual conversation here."
    "Looks like you picked the wrong table," Amber says. Chad looks at me and smiles, like he's about to say something.
    "Hi, Donovan," Drea squeals, as Chad's roommate, Hill- crest Hornets' prize hockey center, walks by. She props Lefty and Righty, her two cuppiest assets, onto the table.
    Meanwhile, I'm still focusing on Chad, waiting for him to continue our conversation, hanging on by barely an eyelash because he's not even looking at me now His attention has wandered to Drea, flirting with Donovan, stuffing her hands into the pockets of his blazer.
    "I know you have gum for me." She glances at Chad, checking to make sure he's paying attention.
    He is.
    Donovan reaches into the inner pocket of his navy-blue uniform blazer and pulls out a pack of Juicy Fruit. He gives her a piece. Ànd one for later," she purrs. He gives her another.
    Amber pokes her finger into her mouth, I'm-gonna-puke style. I nod my agreement.
    Drea stuffs both pieces of gum into her mouth, crumples the wrappers into silver wads, and presses them into Donovan's palm. "Could you be a sweetie and dump these for me?" Without the slightest hesitation, he turns and walks the six or seven tables down to the trash can, slipping on a squashed grape in the process.
    "Such a catch," Amber says, fluttering her eyelashes toward Drea.
    Drea scowls. "Jealous that I have guys literally falling over me.
    When Donovan returns to the table, Drea makes room for him on the seat beside her. "I missed you in health class this morning. Where were you?"
    It's no secret that Donovan sweats Drea. She knows it. He knows she knows it. Everybody at Hillcrest knows it. As legend has it, Donovan has been sweating over Drea ever since the third grade, when they went to grammar school together, but she's just never given him a chance.
    "I was working on some of my art," he says. "I got permission from Mr. Sears to miss the class."
    "Got any pictures to show?" Amber asks. "I love looking at your work.- She leans her chin against his shoulder and smiles at Drea.
    Donovan pulls a mini-sketchbook from his back pocket and flashes us a charcoal drawing of a room, empty except for a cushy chair, a night table, and a door with no knob.
    "Talk about no exits," Amber says. "C'est trés Existentialiste of you."
    "Like you even know what that means," Drea says.
    'Are you kidding? Camus is my man. So deep. Such art."
    "That's Sartre, you nitwit." Drea pushes Amber out of the way to get a closer look at the sketchbook. She snatches it out of Donovan's hands and begins flipping through the pictures.
    "Wait-- Donovan moves to grab the sketchbook back, but Drea turns to avoid him.
    "I want to see," she whines. She flips the pages over sketches of flowers, bowls full of fruit, a pair of glasses, and then stops at a picture of a girl who has an unmistakable resemblance to herself
    "Is this me?" Drea asks.

    The sketch is done in bright violet charcoals. In it, the girl is huddled underneath an umbrella, wearing a short raincoat and an extra smear of shadowing under her eye, like she's crying.
    "It's just doodling." Donovan takes the sketchbook back. "It's from last week, isn't it? I recognize the raincoat." "Why were you crying?" I ask.
    "Parent stuff, what else?" Drea looks away, but then smiles at Donovan to break the tension.
    "You could have at least made me look happy. And look at my hair. Do you know what moisture-filled air does to hair, even under an umbrella?"
    "I prefer drawing people exactly the way I see them. They're perfect just the way they are. Real, you know?"
    "You