Chaste Read Online Free PDF Page A

that Quinn has hidden his shaking hands under the table. He takes a breath and pastes on a smile. It almost looks real, but I know better. The boy knows how to kiss up, I’ll give him that much.
    He swallows.
    “Go ahead, introduce Ms. Jackson.”
    I brush my hand across his knee, watching him go stiff as his addled brain tries to come up with something to say. This should be good, watching kiss-up boy stumble over his words in the middle of class.
    “This is Katarina Jackson, Pastor Jackson’s daughter,” he says in a voice that’s deceptively calm. I hate that he has to bring up my father, but I glue on a fake smile as he keeps going. “She helps her dad write radio addresses about the evils of body art. Then, after her parents are asleep, she goes to tattoo parlors to get her naughty places pierced. I happen to know she has a secret tattoo.”
    Everyone in the room takes a collective breath. Mrs. Williams stops shuffling the papers on her desk. Even I’m riveted as I focus on his lying mouth.
    “It’s written across her left thigh, and it says: Quinn Walker is a god.”
    I wince. Um, no, I don’t think so. Then glance back at my friend John, who managed to keep his seat in the back of the room. He’s sitting next to Tasha, Mike’s other ex-girlfriend, and they’re both laughing. Not funny. That was so not funny.
    Quinn puffs out his chest, smiling like he’s beaten me at my own game. Yeah, right. Watch and learn.
    I throw my shoulders back and tilt up my nose.
    “This is Quinn Walker. He’s Mormon,” I say, speaking into the heavy silence. “He likes working with fake, passionless things. And when he grows up, he’ll make wax sculptures of pretty celebrities, dress them in veils and make them his wives.”
    So maybe I took a few liberties. It’s no worse than what he said about me. And it’s not entirely false either. The boy looks like a Ken doll and acts like he’s made of plastic.
    Tasha breaks out into menacing laughter. Quinn balls his hands into fists under the table. I’ve hurt his pride.
    Good.
    Quinn Walker has way too much. And I’m just getting started.
    “His daily routine consists of holding a cello between his knees and pretending it’s a woman before practicing his kissing skills on random pieces of fruit.”
    Quinn’s face pales as everyone in our physics class has a good laugh.
    “Are oranges good kissers?” Tasha yells.
    “I have a pineapple at home you can practice on,” someone calls.
    I puff out my chest, feeling prouder than ever. Then I notice John frowning, as if he thinks I’ve crossed some invisible line. Whatever, guys are tough. And let’s be honest, he was totally asking for it.
    Quinn looks at me. Then he looks at Molly. She opens her mouth like she wants to bite my head off. Mrs. Williams slaps her clipboard on her desk, and the class falls silent.
    “Quinn and Katarina,” she says in a low voice filled with tension. “You will co-author a paper on the meaning of the word childish . Twenty pages with a minimum of ten references, due the beginning of next week.”
    I can’t believe it, twenty pages! That’s like … four times longer than the five-page paper my English teacher assigned this morning. “But—”
    “No buts,” Mrs. Williams says. “Any more outbursts from either of you, and I’ll kick you both out of class.”
    I roll my eyes. The boy behind us begins introducing his lab partner, a perky blond who used to be in my film class.
    “I have one mom and one dad,” Quinn hisses in my ear. Surprise, surprise, the boy’s so angry, he stopped kissing-up for a whole thirty seconds.
    “That so?” I rub my foot against his ankle. He visibly squirms in his thrift store jeans, and I realize this might actually be fun. Nice boys are so easily rattled. “But you’ll take at least three wives, won’t you?” I flash him a mocking smile.
    “Polygamy was done away with in 1890!”
    The class falls silent as our crazy teacher marches over to our