Dangerous Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

one independent candidate? He or she could have a much smaller campaign crew.”
     
    Mr. Patricks studies Logan. “And are you volunteering to be that candidate, Mr. Townsend?”
     
    “Actually,” Logan says, his eyes flickering over to me. “I was thinking I could manage the campaign. Harper here would be the stronger candidate.”
     
    My jaw drops. How am
I
the stronger candidate? I can’t talk in front of more than three people without freaking out. There’s no way I can campaign.
     
    Mr. Patricks’s lips sorta screw to the side as he considers Logan’s idea. He glances between me and Logan, his eyebrows narrowed. He so did not see this coming.
     
    “Very well. There are twenty-six students in this class, andtwenty-four gives us an even number for each of the two primary parties. You two can run an independent campaign,” Mr. Patricks says, waving his hand over our corner of the room. He then turns and strides back to the front, depositing the bowl on his desk along the way.
     
    Logan winks at me as soon as Mr. Patricks turns back to the dry-erase board, scribbling down our first deadlines.
     
    My pulse races. Did Logan come up with this whole thing just so that he and I could spend more time by ourselves? That’s so conniving…
and so perfect.
     
    “You guys have this period to determine which student from each group will be the candidate, and then develop the basic platform around that student. I expect to have the candidates’ names by the end of class. Please have one representative from each party pick up this flier, which outlines your campaign responsibilities.” He pauses, glancing our way. “And you two—independent candidates don’t have the same resources as the major parties. You’re restricted by half on each of the bullet points on this flier. That means fewer campaign posters, fewer giveaways.” He turns back to the class. “Go ahead and rearrange your desks and get to work.”
     
    The screeching sounds of chairs on tile fill the room as everyone shuffles around, matching up with those in their group.
     
    I stare pointedly at Logan.
     
    He just grins back, his eyes glimmering. “So how do you like me now? Snagging us some alone time, just you, me, and a little campaign action. Not too bad, huh?”
     
    I don’t let myself give in to his adorableness, because he’s missing a major point: I am not a good candidate.
     
    “Public speaking?” he says questioningly.
     
    I narrow my eyes.
     
    He sits up straight in his chair, crossing his arms and meeting my gaze with a triumphant smile. “Tell me it’s not on your list.”
     
    My lips part but I just stare for a long moment, stunned.
     
    His grin widens. “What number is it?”
     
    I clear my throat. “Seven. It’s fear number seven.”
     
    My mother was an amazing public speaker. She taught noncredit art courses at the local community college and could lecture to a hundred people without breaking a sweat. I, on the other hand, not so much. I stuttered my way through a one-minute answer in the Dairy Princess competition and nearly lost the whole shebang.
     
    He beams. “Oooh…jumping three!”
     
    I ignore his lame attempt at a joke. “How did you know?” I ask.
     
    He leans forward, pulling my hands onto his desk, intertwining his fingers with mine. “That one was a given. I know you better than you think I do.”
     
    Heat rises to my cheeks. “Really?”
     
    “Yup. And I’m going to break you out of your little box yet.” Logan bangs his fist against the desk, as if to say that’s the end of it.
     
    Even though I’m still freaking out, I can’t resist teasing him. “I dunno about that. Braver men have tried.”
     
    “Ooh, is that a challenge?”
     
    “No. I—”
     
    “Well, Harper Bennett, I accept,” he says, grinning.
     
    I can’t help but smile back at him. “We’re going to lose. You would have been a
much
better candidate.”
     
    “Nonsense! You’re going to be