Farsighted (Farsighted Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

yet. The other students are milling about, whispering excitedly.
    “You’re lucky you’re a cripple, freak, or I’d—” Brady says. Why is he still here? I didn’t do anything to make him angry. Some of the students start taunting Brady, telling him to throw a punch at me. Brady laughs; clearly he loves the attention.
    After a moment, the whispering stops. Brady’s moved away from my desk so fast I hardly even realized it. I decide to let the whole thing go, but then footsteps come toward me again, carrying with them the scents of Axe deodorant spray and dried sweat. Brady seems intent on a confrontation. Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.
    Slyly, I nudge the end of my cane across my seat and into the aisle. Not sticking out far enough to be noticed but still far enough to get in the way.
    Thud ! Brady trips and falls headlong down the aisle.
    Ha, always wanted to do that. Sometimes blindness comes in handy. No one would ever guess this wasn’t an accident.
    “You better watch yourself, Kosmitoras,” Brady growls, back on his feet now.
    “You better watch yourself, Evans,” I hiss back, drawing out the S at the end of Evans. I’m a venomous cobra, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.
    The bell rings. Wait didn’t the bell already ring? Haven’t I been here before?
    The other students in the class are milling about, whispering excitedly.
    “You’re lucky you’re a cripple, freak, or I’d—” Brady says.
    “Or what?” I challenge, rising to my feet while wrapping my knuckles around the handle of my cane and solidifying my grip. I’ve had enough, and besides, what have I got to lose by standing up to him? If anything, a fight with Brady could improve my social standing.
    The whispering grows louder. Some of the students start taunting Brady, telling him to throw a punch at me.
    Brady laughs arrogantly, “Or I’d make you sorry.” He cracks his knuckles as if his words weren’t clear enough.
    “I’m not a cripple, but I am going to make you sorry,” I shout, bringing the end of my cane down hard on Brady’s toes.
    I can tell it stung, but Brady doesn’t make any noise to indicate it. He’s too much of a tough guy. Instead, he punches me in the stomach.
    I don’t feel anything except a pulsing pain in my middle. And anger, a lot of anger. I raise my cane again and thwack Brady higher up—his face, his neck, I don’t care as long as it hurts.
    This time, he cries out in pain.
    Now, I’m laughing. This is what he deserves, since he just couldn’t leave me alone.
    The teacher comes into the classroom. Her sweet body spray trails her. The other students grow quiet, waiting to find out what she’ll do.
    Brady punches me in the nose. There’s a crack as he makes contact with the bone. Blood spurts from my nostrils and flows into my mouth—guess I’ve gotten my daily dose of iron now. I almost throw up, but before I can, the teacher pulls me and Brady out of the classroom by the collars of our shirts. She forces us down the hall toward the principal’s office.
    Once there, we’re separated and forced to sit quietly until our parents arrive. I feel like such a little kid. Brady’s lucky we’re apart, otherwise I’d cane him again.
    Dad rushes into the office, totally frantic. “Alex?” he calls out. He spots me and comes over to where I’m sitting, holding a tissue to my nose in order to staunch the flow of blood. “Alex! What happened? Are you okay?”
    “Nothing,” I grumble. “I’m fine.”
    “Doesn’t look like you are to me. Tell me what happened.”
    “Dad, I don’t want to talk about it,” I yell. “God, leave me alone already!”
    For once he doesn’t press the issue. Instead he walks over to the secretary’s desk and thumbs through some pamphlets about peer pressure, drugs, and abstinence—I asked the secretary about them last year when I knocked them onto the floor while handing her a doctor’s note. Dad fiddles with the papers, continuously