Imaginary Foe Read Online Free PDF Page B

dart about and scan the area for teachers.
    ‘How much have you had?’
    ‘Not that mush.’ Steve lets out a toxic burp.
    ‘Well, give me some, you bastards.’ Mike hands me his paper cup and I take a manly gulp. ‘What is this shit?’
    ‘It’s Scotch, brain-boy!’
    I look into the stained cup. I feel a wave of heat creep up my face, and a vomity aftertaste hangs round my mouth. I drink some more to wash it down.
    ‘My old man’s got shitloads of it – bottles and bottles. He won’t miss a drop.’ Steve bares his teeth in a Scotch-ridden grin.
    ‘Oh, my God, there goes Strickland!’ Steve points him out and we all dash over to the dance area, hoping to conceal ourselves in a dark corner.
    Strickland is our maths teacher, and he has a personality akin to Hitler’s. In fact, Mr Strickland is so devoid of any warm emotion that we’re convinced he’s a descendant of Hitler himself. We’ve constructed many theories about his personal life over years of school lunches, and have decided upon the likelihood that he’s never formed a serious relationship with anyone, let alone had sex with anyone. We’ve also theorised that his mother made a mockery of him in some unforgettable public scene and that the girl he loved in high school had sex with his best friend, right in front of his face. So, if Strickland were to catch us drinking now, he’d have a lifetime of pent-up sexual frustration to unleash upon us.
    We find some chairs and settle into them. ‘Shit, that was close.’
    I lean back in my chair, making sure Strickland is not in pursuit of us. And he’s not. He’s wandered off in the other direction. The alcohol that I consumed so quickly has warmed my body and the disco lights dance across my face at a nauseating tempo. I’ve looked forward to this night for ages and now here it is, staring me in the face, teasing me with its mediocrity.
    ‘Hey, Stan, guess who’s over there?’ Jeremy motions with several quick jerks of his head. I look to where Jeremy was motioning and catch sight of Rhonda. She’s across the room, casually leaning against a wall. Brenton Hull stands beside her, looking as charming as hell. He stoops slightly to talk in her ear, cupping a hand to his mouth to be heard above the noise. She seems to be enjoying it. The next thing he says to her must be pretty funny because she leans forward laughing, putting a hand to her mouth in an attempt to contain her overwhelming happiness. As I watch them flirt, my heart ruptures and I’m enveloped by a painful sadness that reaches and courses through every part of my body.
    ‘Well, she looks pretty happy, hey?’
    ‘Shut up, Jeremy. Stan’s got eyes of his own.’ Mike nudges me with his elbow. ‘Wanna drink, buddy?’ Mike waggles his paper cup before me.
    ‘Nah. Thanks, Mike. I might go grab a Coke.’ I walk over to the drinks counter.
    On the way, I pass Mandy O’Connor. She gives me daggers. She still hasn’t forgiven me, and rumour has it that she’s still in love with me. She looks really cute tonight with her fringe all teased up. She’s wearing loads of black eyeliner. I smile at her but she keeps on with the daggers. I laugh to myself. If only I was still interested in Mandy. Life would be so easy.
    I reach the drinks counter and I’m pleased to see that Mr Rogers is staffing it. ‘Hi, Mr Rogers.’
    ‘Hi, Stanley. Enjoying the dance?’
    I consider answering politely, but then think to hell with it. ‘Well, not really. Sometimes life just isn’t fair, is it?’
    Mr Rogers looks at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Well, sure. Life can be unfair. But maybe you could turn this low point around and go ahead and do something bold. Why not ask someone for a dance?’
    I appreciate Mr Rogers’ encouragement. For a teacher, he’s pretty cool. ‘Yeah. Maybe. We’ll see.’
    Mr Rogers smiles victoriously, knowing that he’s planted a seed in my mind. I buy a Coke and sit back down next to Mike. We’re facing the dance