Farsighted (Farsighted Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

instigator was,” Mrs. Palermo says. “I’ll see you boys next week, and I hope you can control yourselves better during the rest of the school year. We pride ourselves on the—”
    I’m so furious I need to leave before I whack Brady in his stupid face a second time. I get up and stomp out while the principal’s still making her boring, motivational speech. What’s the worst that can happen? Dad’s already going to ground me for weeks, if not months, and I doubt a three-and-a-half day suspension is enough to make me calm down and forget how much I hate Brady.
    ***
    Now that I’m suspended, my only option is to hang around Sweet Blossoms with Mom the entire day. I begin to read ahead for English out of boredom. The rest of my books for first semester came in last night and Mom picked them up for me—all fifty-some volumes are at home except the two I brought with me today. Romeo and Juliet looks stupid, so I start in on The Odyssey . Not something I would ordinarily choose to read, but I am really bored.
    Mom is surprised I got into a fight, but not angry. She knows how the other kids act with me, and she seems to be proud I chose to defend myself for a change. After blotting at my nose and fussing over me, she gave me a little talk about being responsible for my actions, and left it at that. She’s much more understanding than Dad. He’s still acting weird. I’m glad he’s off looking for work, because frankly, I can’t stand being around him lately.
    Mom hums a peppy little tune and pieces together floral arrangements for a funeral. It’s sad somebody died, but funerals are great for business—especially since Sweet Blossoms is the only florist within miles of our small town. I’d help, but I haven’t got an eye for these things; I tend to put a bunch of things that smell good together. Mom says they look nice, but I always hear her rearranging them. Instead, I’m sitting on a bench in the bay window at the front of the store, dragging my left index finger across the bumpy pages of my book.
    I’m at the part where Telemachus tries to go and find his dad, Odysseus, even though the dad’s been gone for like twenty years. I don’t understand how he’s going to find him, since Telemachus has no idea where his dad is, or even what he looks like. I guess it’d kind of be like me trying to search for my dad—he’s at a huge disadvantage. I’m contemplating whether I would even try to find Dad, provided he got lost and all, when the door jingles an off-schedule holiday greeting. I assume somebody’s here for an arrangement of funereal flowers, but I’m wrong.
    “Alex?” Simmi’s sweet, nutty presence approaches.
    “Hi, Simmi.” I stand to greet her and slap the covers of my book together before I can remember to bookmark the page. I try to focus on draining the color from my cheeks—how embarrassing. “Um, can I help you with something? Do you need flowers?”
    “No, nothing like that. I heard what happened in first period. I came to bring you your make-up work for chemistry and history. If you tell me what your other classes are, I can bring you the work from them, too.”
    I accept the pages from Simmi’s soft hands. If the thickness is any indication, she’s taken very detailed notes for me. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”
    “It’s no problem. I’ve only been at this school for two days and already I can tell Brady Evans is not at all a nice person.” She pauses, and I hear her shift weight from one foot to the other and scratch at her elbow. “It won’t be a problem?”
    “What?”
    “The notes, you’ll be able to read them, right?”
    “Oh, yeah. Dad can type them up using our braille printer at home. No big deal.”
    Neither of us says anything for a few awkward moments.
    “Is that a braille book?” Simmi asks. I’m guessing she means The Odyssey .
    “Yeah. You ever seen one of these before?”
    “No, besides the cover of your chemistry, uh, book yesterday, I mean. Do