Heartstopper Read Online Free PDF Page A

every time she opened her mouth, it was like a dagger to Sandy’s heart? Talk about metaphors, she thought, shaking her head and dislodging the hair she’d just tucked behind her ear, realizing, technically, it was a simile. “Go ahead, Dee,” she said.
    “Dee?”
Greg repeated incredulously.
“Dee?!
Hey, if you’re gonna give her a nickname, how about Deli? Yeah, that’s better. God knows she could eat everything in one.”
    Once again, the class erupted in laughter. But unlike Victor, Delilah had no quick comeback, no clever retort.
    “That’s enough,” Sandy warned.
    “Tell that to the Deli,” Joey Balfour shouted from the back of the room. A fresh wave of laughter swept through the class.
    “Or how about Big D?” Greg continued. “You know, like the song—”
    “I said, that’s enough.”
    Delilah lowered her head, creating an unfortunate double chin. Sandy felt immediately guilty. The poor girl had enough problems without being saddled with a nickname that was worse than the real thing. What had she done? It wasn’t the teenager’s fault that her mother had seduced Sandy’s husband during an intimate online chat. It wasn’t her fault that Ian had grown restless and dissatisfied being the proverbial small fish in a big pond, that he’d yearned to be a bigger fish in a smaller pond.
    Make that the biggest fish, Sandy amended. The smallest pond.
    Make that frog, she amended further. Make that quagmire.
    “Okay. No more of that. Unless you all want to stay late after class.” Immediately the room fell silent. No need for clever retorts when you had power. “Delilah,” Sandy encouraged.
    “That’s all right. I like
Dee,”
Delilah said in the soft, little-girl voice that never failed to surprise Sandy. The voice seemed years—not to mention pounds—removed from the person speaking.
    “Okay, then … Dee. Tell us what a metaphor is.”
    “It’s a symbol,” Delilah began. “A comparison. Like when you use a word or phrase that normally means one thing to mean something else.”
    “What the hell is she talking about?” Greg asked.
    “It means Victor wasn’t actually lying in bed listening for wolves howling,” Brian Hensen answered without looking up from his desk. Brian was the sickly son of theschool nurse, and his complexion was as pale naturally as Victor’s was after half a jar of powder.
    “Then what does he mean, smart-ass?”
    “He’s listening for things that go bump in the night,” Brian answered matter-of-factly. “For danger.” He raised his eyes to Sandy’s. “For death.”
    “Wow,” said Victor.
    “Cool,” said Greg.
    Then, for several seconds, no one said anything. “Thank you, Brian,” Sandy managed to whisper, fighting the urge to give both Victor and Brian a huge hug. Maybe she was contributing something after all. Maybe her months here hadn’t been a complete and utter waste of time, as she’d lamented on more than one occasion. Maybe somebody was actually learning something. “Victor, please continue reading your journal.”
    Again Victor cleared his throat, then paused several seconds for dramatic effect. “‘Of course I know there aren’t any wolves in Florida,’” he read, an audible sneer in his voice as he glanced toward Joey. “‘But that doesn’t stop me from imagining them gathering outside my room. Will they be there later? I wonder. Will they be waiting for me, as I sneak from my warm bed into the cool darkness of the night? Will they follow me into the forest as I shed my skin, like the thin snake that slithers across my bare toes in the moonlight?’”
    “What forest, dipshit?”
    “Joey …,”Sandy warned.
    “Don’t tell me. It’s another metaphor.”
    “‘I find a quiet piece of damp earth,’” Victor continued without prompting. “‘I take the kitchen knife from my belt. I run the serrated edge of the blade along the inside of my arm, watch as blood bubbles to the surface of my skin, like lava from a volcano. I