Dear Rockstar Read Online Free PDF Page B

at the front of the classroom.
    “We’re good, thanks.” Dale gave him back that same, short, dismissive nod and, to my surprise, Woodall hesitated only a moment before moving on with his questions. He was up to Holly now, two tables over.
    Dale picked up my drawing pencil—I never used number-two’s and always had to borrow them for Scantron tests. My pencils were always B’s or H’s. The one Dale picked up was a softer B-2. He turned it over in his hand, black instead of yellow, unfamiliar in a school environment, outside of an art class, and then pulled my notebook over in front of him on the desk.
    I raised my eyebrows in a question as he began to write on the blank page.
    Sorry about that. This guy is totally lame.
    Nodding in agreement, I made a face, and he smiled again. Oh that smile—and that dimple! I wanted to touch it, just put my finger right there, just once. It was almost as appealing as the familiar dent in his chin. He was writing again.
    You have a great smile.
    Had I been smiling? I shook my head, covering my smile with my hand, but he silently protested, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand back down to my lap. That just made me smile more.
    So who’s WE?
    He underlined WE twice, raising his eyebrows at me in question, tipping the pencil toward me. I took it, turning the notebook so I could write a response.
    My best friend, Aimee, and me.
    He nodded, smiling again, taking the pencil back.
    No boyfriend?
    I shook my head, feeling my cheeks starting to get red for the millionth time that afternoon, and that’s when I noticed the class had grown quiet again. Woodall came around the desks, stalking toward us, slapping his hand down on my notebook.
    “I said… no distractions !” He picked up my notebook, taking it up to the front of the room while the rest of the class watched with amusement as he threw it into the garbage can. It was like throwing my heart in the trash. All my drawings!
    Dale nudged me and I turned to look at him, distraught. He pointed to the beige surface of the table where he’d written, I’ll get it back for you .
    I nodded stiffly, but couldn’t take my eyes off the edge of my notebook sticking out of the top of the garbage can. I wanted to run up and rescue it. I glanced at the clock. It was nearing time to go, thank God.
    Dale touched my knee with his, getting my attention. He pointed to the table again.
    U OK?
    I shook my head, taking the pencil and scribbling beneath his words.
    It’s important.
    I felt my throat closing up, like I was going to cry, and fought it, blinking back tears and looking at the clock. Time couldn’t move fast enough. Woodall was passing back our pop quizzes, nearing our table.
    Dale shifted toward me again, his knee against mine, nodding at the table. I looked down.
    I promise .
    He’d underlined that twice too.
    He was writing again when Woodall slapped my pop quiz down in front of me with a big, fat D+ in red circled at the top, turning to move on to the Flashdance twins, and then he glanced back, seeing the writing on the table, his face going from puzzled to incredulous to furious in the space of about two seconds.
    “You’re both staying after to wash these desks!” Woodall’s voice was actually shaking with anger, his face so red it was nearly purple. “This is inexcusable!”
    I just nodded in agreement, nudging Dale under the table when he went to open his mouth and say something. Whatever it was couldn’t be good and would just serve to get us into more trouble. And we were already in deep enough. All I wanted to do was pass this class—and a D+ was passing.
    I bit my lip and looked at Dale. He shrugged and when Woodall wasn’t looking, he crossed his eyes. I smiled in spite of the sick feeling in my stomach. Woodall continued to pass out graded quizzes, shaking his head and grumbling. Dale dug in his pocket, pulling out the Skittles again. He poured some into his palm, fishing through and using all the red ones to make a