Hello Groin Read Online Free PDF Page B

a moment it was just the three of them, cackling in absolute hysteria, while the rest of us scanned the group, trying to figure out the joke. Within seconds, the entire classroom had focused on Sharon Harder, who was still holding the package of condoms. The result was a wall of sound smashing into Sharon, and I have to admit I was part of it, roaring my head off with the others.
    When the hysteria finally died down, Ms. Harada was speechless. “Well,” she faltered, her eyes on Sharon, “that wasn’t very nice.” But she left it at that. I mean, what was she supposed to do—give the entire class a detention for laughing? Besides, she coached half of the girls’ sports teams, and the phone patrol were her most valuable players. That was the secret of their power—ithad to do with the way they operated as a group, pushing boundaries en masse, but never stepping over them as individuals. As Cam Zeleny’s girlfriend, I was reasonably safe from their attacks— no girl, not even a member of the phone patrol, would risk her chances of dating Cam in the future by attacking his current girlfriend in an obvious manner. But they had their way of getting in small digs, and it was easiest just to go along with things, duck your head and keep your mouth shut when you disagreed.
    “What d’you think of Michelle Allen?” asked Rachel, ignoring the angry burn that was festering on my face. She’d made her point. The phone patrol knew about my sex life, or lack thereof, and had filed the information in the appropriate mental-storage unit. They had probably heard about it from Gary Pankratz or Len Schroeder, two of Cam’s friends—Julie and Len had been getting very friendly of late. But then, maybe they’d heard it straight from Cam. Like Joc said, he moaned and groaned about it enough when I wasn’t around.
    “The new girl?” asked Julie, also ignoring me.
    “Yeah,” said Rachel. “She’s signed up for volleyball tryouts.”
    “She-male,” Julie said significantly.
    In spite of the flush that was eating up my face, I gave her a startled glance. This fall, Michelle Allen had transferred to the Dief from Confederation Collegiate, a high school across town, because she wanted to get in on the Dief’s superior sports program. Though she was in grade twelve, I knew her somewhat because we’d played on the same summer-league baseball team two years ago. Nothing had seemed remotely off about her.
    “She has a boyfriend,” I said quickly. “At least she did last August.”
    “Can’t see why,” Julie said coolly. “Practically no boobs, and she’s built like a horse. She should’ve been born a guy—it’s written all over her.”
    “D’you think she’s a dyke?” asked Rachel. Focusing on Julie’s upper lip, she sketched a Smartie-sized beauty mark above it.
    “It’s as obvious as the nose on my face,” said Julie, scowling at Rachel’s latest brain wave in the mirror. “We’ll have to keep an eye on her in the locker room. If she tries anything funny, she’s toast.”
    With that, they ditched Michelle Allen and started in on someone else. Rigid on the bed, I lay silent, letting my thoughts race. Everything I knew about Michelle told me that Julie was wrong, but there was no point in saying anything. Nobody argued with Julie Crozier. She had just pronounced a death sentence on Michelle Allen, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it. The harassment Michelle would face if she made the team would never be obvious to Ms. Harada or the other coaches, simply an ongoing series of small shoves and pushes, personal belongings that constantly went missing and a wall of silence from the other players. I gave it three, maybe four weeks, before Michelle quit and headed back to Confed.
    And all this was going to happen in spite of the fact that Michelle had a boyfriend. I’d always thought having a boyfriend meant you were high and dry, no one would assume anything.
    “Hey,” said Rachel, turning