Going Under Read Online Free PDF

crawled, and I
felt an overwhelming urge to attack him. I’d be no match, I knew,
but perhaps I could claw his eyes out before he slammed me to the
floor, knocking me unconscious.
    “Well, I hope you like this school better,”
he said after he finished his assessment.
    “I guess it doesn’t matter either way,” I
said. “It’s our last year.”
    “True,” he replied. “But I plan on making it
a good one.”
    Yeah, I bet you do, you fucking asshole.
    “Oh, me too,” I said a little too
enthusiastically. He seemed to like it.
    “I’m Cal, by the way,” he said, extending
his hand.
    I took it tentatively. I didn’t want to.
Adrenaline was pumping overtime, and I was afraid I’d squeeze his
hand so hard I’d rip it off.
    “Brooklyn,” I replied. “But everyone calls
me Brooke.”
    “It’s nice to meet you, Brooklyn,” he said,
curling his lips into a pleasant smile. He squeezed my hand before
releasing it.
    Hmm, so he had no plans to call me “Brooke.”
At least not yet. What was he playing at? Perhaps he didn’t want me
to think that I had captured his attention. Maybe he didn’t want me
thinking we would even be friends. He was, after all, one of those
popular guys. I, on the other hand, had no social status and had no
ambitions to be popular.
    “Nice to meet you, too, uh . . . what was
your name again?” I worked my hardest to suppress the grin. You
don’t wanna give me “Brooke?” Okay then. I won’t even give you a
name.
    He chuckled. “Cal.”
    “That’s right,” I said. “Cal. Is Cal short
for anything?”
    He smirked and looked over his shoulder
before turning back to me. “Yeah. Calvin. But everyone calls me
Cal.”
    “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Calvin,” I
said. I cocked my head to the side and grinned.
    “Hmm,” he replied, and I imagined he was
thinking about the type of panties I wore.
    Dad tapped my shoulder at the perfect
moment. I had to get away from this guy. I wanted to throttle him,
knowing what he did to my friend, and I was heady from the plan
still unfolding in my brain. And frankly, I was scared of Cal’s
physical size.
    “Ready?” Dad asked.
    I breathed deeply, then thought of the
perfect response. “Yes, Daddy,” and he looked at me strangely. I
watched Cal’s reaction to my words, certain of his arousal. “Bye,
Calvin.” I lifted my hand in a tiny wave.
    “Hey wait,” he said hurriedly. He reached
for my registration card. “Can I see your class schedule?”
    “Sure,” I said, handing him the card. “Any
particular reason why?”
    “Uh, well, I can tell you about the
teachers,” he said.
    Bullshit. He wanted to know what classes he
could take with me. Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitch, and the image of a
big, fat tuna wriggling on a tiny hook came to mind. A slow,
tortuous death, and I smiled, imagining the last desperate
flop.
    “Like Ms. Walker. She’ll have you doing all
sorts of presentations in class. Good if you like public speaking,
but I think most of us freaking hate it,” he said.
    I nodded.
    “And Mr. Hatchet—”
    “Yikes, that’s a scary name.”
    “No kidding. He’s a jerk. Just so you know.
Don’t try to win him over with your feminine charms. It doesn’t
work on him. He won’t even take legitimate excuses for missing
class. Not even doctors notes.”
    “Sounds like a jerk,” I echoed.
    “Um, the rest are okay. I see you’re doing
Yearbook? I was planning on that, too,” Cal said.
    Were you, Cal? Were you really planning on
doing Yearbook? Give me a break.
    “Well, if you do, maybe we can work
together. You know, go take pictures together or whatever,” I
offered. Sickly sweet. Good girl.
    “Yeah, maybe,” he said, and handed me the
card. “I’ll see you later.”
    “Okay. See you next week, Calvin,” I said as
he walked away.
    “Making friends already, huh?” Dad asked as
we made our way out of the gym to Dad’s old pickup truck.
    “Hardly,” I replied. “Though he seemed nice
enough.”
    The lie felt