Dime Read Online Free PDF Page B

longer, he whispered. She got seniority, so she got the couch. But don’t you worry, Beautiful. We going to fix up that alcove nice for you. He gave me a new pillow with a royal-blue pillowcase.
    Those first days, I still slept hard. Nothing woke me until seven, and then my eyes popped open as if I had an alarm clock in my head. I didn’t want to miss school. I didn’t want to miss Trevor and Dawn. Even though I barely ever said anything, they didn’t just count on me for homework; they talked to me some too. I didn’t worry they would bother me, the way I worried about other kids, sometimes jumping each other in the hallways, pulling out knives. Or disrespecting the weak teachers with language as foul as Janelle at her most drunk. I didn’t want to miss Mr. Stewart going off about how bumblebees and dolphins share the same physics or about Hilary Clinton or global warming or whatever topic he thought was okay for world history. I didn’t want to miss his class, even though I was only getting Ds in it and he didn’t seem to know my name.
    I hadn’t gotten any As or even Bs for three years—not since English in fifth grade at middle school. But still I didn’t want to miss that feeling I got from knowing an answer even though I never raised my hand. That feeling people get in books like Peter must have had during his snowy day when he made footprints and then stick tracks in the snow or Mandy when she lay in the grass and gazed at the pansies she grew herself from seeds. Charlie Bucket when he peeled back the wrapper of that second chocolate bar and saw the flash of golden ticket peeking out. I only got that feeling from school or from books.
    And from him when he looked at me or smiled at me or put his arm on me or kissed me. He didn’t do any of those things very much. I thought he was trying not to get L.A. or Brandy jealous. Because a few times he’d whispered to me , You know you my favorite, right? L.A. own her place, and it important. And Brandy reliable. But you. You smart, Beautiful. You special. I got plans for you. He would be whispering so close to my face. Big plans.
    I spent more and more time thinking about him, wishing he would whisper to me again, touch me.
    So I began leaving Trevor and Dawn after the last bell, rushing, hoping he’d already driven L.A. and Brandy to work and come back home. Then he and I would be alone together without the others for about an hour before he left. Maybe we would watch TV. Maybe he would wrap his arm around my shoulder. Sometimes we played games on his phone. Angry Birds. He always laughed when I beat him. Sometimes he would send me into L.A.’s room, or he would go into his because he wanted privacy. I would hear him playing some kind of video game or talking on his phone. Whispering or shouting or just making conversation. When he was whispering or just talking, he would have a way he spoke—a tone—that made me mad. Jealous. It was the same tone he used with me when he told me I was the best. I didn’t like hearing that tone for someone invisible on the other end of his phone.
    But sometimes he would come out and tell me things. It was always topics and not details. Money or Stress or Business or his Brother Down South and the Russians or if somebody pissed him off at the gym. Until he mentioned that, I didn’t even know he went to a gym. I thought his body was just natural.
    Sometimes he would wrap his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close and kissing my eyelids, giving me that good feeling. You the best, he would say. He would notice my homework spread out on my lap. You the smartest individual I know. I got big plans for you. I felt like I was really somebody.
    *  *  *
    I was carrying a forty and a plate of Doritos and guacamole over to him. I was walking too fast and somehow I tripped, smashing the side of my head into the corner of the glass coffee table.
    â€œWhoa.” He