Falling From Grace Read Online Free PDF Page B

down at my hand and saw my class schedule, still clutched in my grip, now wrinkled and crushed by hands that had balled up into frustrated little fists.   I hadn’t had enough time to put it away before I bumped into him .   Its sterile and benign print beckoned.   I might as well look it over while I sat here in self-inflicted purgatory.
    I had homeroom with Mr. Frey, French with Madame Hidani and Calculus with Mrs. Hoppbaker.   I was pleased so far.   Mr. Frey was always asleep during homeroom, so I could be late if I wanted, and walking to school would most likely make me late.   Madam Hidani was a transplant from Hawai’i who somehow mastered in French Literature and ended up teaching in our small Ohio town.   Her fluent and flowing French, coming out of that exotic face always made me smile.   Just to throw us off a little more, she had even done the hula while singing in French!   Then there was Mrs. Hoppbaker, who was probably the largest woman in all of Heath, and never failed to point out that fact to us every year.   I felt a bubble of laughter form in my chest when I thought of how she had introduced herself to us at the beginning of last year.
    “Good afternoon students.   My name is Mrs. Hoppbaker, and I’m so big, I’ve got two parking spaces reserved for me; one for my car, and one so I can get in and out of it.”
    She always did her best to make math fun and had it not been for her, I probably would have never been accepted into the Calculus program she taught in the morning.   It was going to be tough, but she would make it a much more pleasant experience than — I scanned down the list…
    Ugh.   Fourth period science:   Biology II.   Not that I hated dissection or bodily examinations.   I’m the furthest thing from squeamish.   Rather, it was the teacher Mr. Branke that made me ill.   He liked to touch all of the female students.   And I mean all of them, including me.   It wasn’t the kind of touching that’d get you arrested, just the kind that made you feel uncomfortable.   His unwanted attentions had earned him the nickname “The Octopus” because of how it seemed as though he had eight arms, and each one of them somehow managed to touch you all at the same time.  
    I had hoped for the only other Biology teacher at Heath, Mr. Yost, but he required you to take a placement exam before allowing you in, and I’m not one of those naturally gifted braniacs.   I’m not an idiot, but I’m not MENSA material either; seeing Mr. Branke’s name on the schedule confirmed what I already knew: I wasn’t cut out for advanced biological sciences.
    Fifth period was English Literature, which was a sleeper class with Mrs. Muniz.   I had read all of the books on last year’s fourth year syllabus, so I knew there would be nothing new learned there.   Sixth period was a surprise, however.   Theater?   I didn’t even know we had a Drama program! But there it was in black and white, with a Mr. Calvin Danielson listed as the teacher.  
    I knew I hadn’t chosen an elective at the end of last year, hoping that on the off chance that there was nothing else, I could have a free period, but Theater?   Seriously?   What did I know about the arts other than the plays I had read?   I could understand their emotions, sure, but to physically act them out?   If I couldn’t lie with a straight face to my dad, how would I manage lying to an entire audience?   Maybe I could be a stagehand, a techie—I’d be the person pulling the curtain or handing out props.   As long as we didn’t have to get up on stage, I’d be fine.
    The sound of the bathroom door opening and the clunking of heavy soles on ceramic tile yanked me from my thoughts.   Giggling and talking accompanied the interruption.   I recognized one of the voices immediately, even though I had never spoken to her in my life.  
    Erica Hamilton’s voice filled the bathroom with its presence, and did nothing to detract from the