High and Dry Read Online Free PDF Page B

“but why would I?”
    â€œYou’d do it for Ellie,” she pouted.
    I stared her straight in the eyes, just so there was no mistaking what I was about to say, and the degree to which I meant it. “I would do
anything
for Ellie.”
    She looked genuinely hurt for a second. “So the answer’s no?”
    â€œThe answer’s no. I’ve got too much going on with soccer. We have a big game Friday against Agua Dulce.”
    Bridget stared at me for a second. “Hmm,” she said. “I was afraid of this.”
    My hands started shaking again. “Of what?”
    â€œOf you refusing. Go ahead and take a look at your cell phone.”
    I felt a slow, icy dread crawl up my spine. “What do you mean?”
    â€œLook at your text message history,” she articulated calmly.
    I took out my phone and sat back down. Tapped the messages icon and scrolled through it.
    There were twenty texts from Bridget to me, all time-stamped from last night. That wasn’t the horrifying part. The horrifying part was the twenty texts from
me
to
her
in return.
    Apparently, I was bringing sexy back. In explicit detail.
    â€œFind my flash drive by the scholarship deadline Friday afternoon, or Ellie gets an eyeful,” said Bridget.
    â€œYou’re blackmailing me!”
    â€œYou didn’t give me a choice.”
    I clenched my fist beneath the table. “She dumped me. Why would she care?”
    â€œ
You
care, though, don’t you? You think you still have a chance.”
    Her smugness knew no bounds. She wasn’t the cat who ate the canary—she was the cat who bred canaries in captivity and force-fed them to
each other
, then had a foie gras–style feast off one epic, stuffed bird.
    I shook my head, incredulous. “You sat there in your room all night, pretend-sexting me, and using my phone to write back?”
    â€œIt’s pretty basic, Dix. But thanks, I thought it was clever.”
    I laughed for like two hours. Leaned back in my seat and clasped my hands behind my head.
    It made her nervous. “What? Why are you laughing?”
    â€œYou stupid, horrible … I could hate-kiss you.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou’ve given me an alibi!”
    It took her a second to realize I was right.
    â€œShow these to the sheriff’s deputy.
Don’t
show them to Ellie,” I ordered.
    Bridget’s dark red lips parted in a wide smile, exposing her teeth. “Guess that means you’re helping me.”
    I guessed it did.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
    AFTER MOM’S TRIUMPH WITH FRESH START, MY PARENTS could’ve moved on to the next town to work their magic, but Granddad enjoyed having us nearby, and my dad enjoyed his position teaching at Lambert College. Plus, I think they wanted to keep me in the district to prove Fresh Start was a success: “Look! Palm Valley has such a wondrous school system now, we want our
own
kid to attend. We would never dream of leaving!”
    What my mom and Fresh Start failed to comprehend was that the teachers were only half the problem. The real reason everyone had been bombing tests and never participating in class was because they were terrified of upperclassmen. The bullying of freshmen and sophomores was a religion and a sport, with the combined zealotry of each.
    If, as a fourteen- or fifteen-year-old, you’re constantly calculating which route in the hallway is least likely to lead to disfigurement or dismemberment, or wondering who’ll steal and destroy your homework assignment, piss in your lunch bag, “decorate” your locker, or follow you home for more secluded beatings, it’s tough to give a crap about your grades.
    So how do you stop bullying? By giving everyone a group torun with; a group to call home; a group to protect them. From the moment freshmen arrive now, they belong to something. A team. A program. An after-school extracurricular.
    The second to last week of eighth grade,