Jack Adrift Read Online Free PDF Page B

might like a bubble-gum cigar. I brought a whole pack.”
    â€œNo, thanks,” I said breathlessly. “I can’t chew it. My dad’s a dentist. He forbids us to have gum. He checks my breath after school.”
    â€œI have some trick gum,” he replied, reaching into his top pocket. “It tastes just like bad breath.”
    â€œI have to go to the bathroom,” I said suddenly. I jumped up and fled for the door. As I dashed down the hallway I scanned the floor and walls for gum. There was none on the light switches or fire alarm pulls. I went inside the boys’ room. None on the floor. I looked in the stalls. I checked the toilet seats. They were disgusting, but no gum. I ran out. I passed the water fountain.
No gum on the mouth guard, or in the drain, or on the handle. I ran to the next bathroom. No gum. I passed the library. The librarian, Mrs. Alice, defied Mrs. Nivlash with a sign reading: STILL NO GUM ALLOWED. I gave her the thumbs up as I dashed by. There was nothing in the lost and found. By the time I made it back to class, Miss Noelle had arrived. “Okay, students,” she was saying. “Put the gum away and take out your journals.” Quickly I threw a penny on the floor and got down on my hands and knees to search for it. I didn’t care about the penny. I was looking up at the undersides of everyone’s desks to make certain no one had parked a wad of gum there.
    â€œJack,” Miss Noelle said sharply, “what are you doing crawling around on all fours?”
    I jumped up so fast I got dizzy. My knees buckled and I stumbled around like a drunk while the room turned into a silent black-and-white film, then back to normal.
    â€œAre you sick?” she asked. “Do you need to see the nurse?”
    â€œYes,” I said. I grabbed my book bag and as I left the room my head twitched wildly as my eyes jerked around, searching for signs of improperly discarded gum.
    In the nurse’s office I told her I had the flu. She laid me out on the uncomfortable plastic-covered bed and slipped a thermometer under my tongue, then went
back to reading a book on flesh-eating infectious diseases. To calm down I lay there and thought only of Miss Noelle. If I lived at her house, I could help her think up clever assignments. I could help her grade papers. After school I’d help her redo the hallway bulletin boards. My desk would be directly next to hers. We would think up little codes and signals so we could communicate privately in front of the students. We’d pass snappy notes back and forth, and smile knowingly into each other’s eyes. Just imagining this totally fulfilling life made me purr like a relaxed cat.
    Suddenly the nurse removed the thermometer and squinted at it. She scowled and gave it a shake. “You’re fine,” she declared.
    I knew better. I was sick in a way no thermometer could detect.
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    After school I passed the cemetery. I had the idea to go in and find a quiet spot to sit and think about my imaginary life, because I knew that once I got home my real life would take over and I’d have no time to myself. I walked in and looked around. The rows of tombstones looked like giant toes sticking out of the ground. I walked over to where the last person had been buried and examined the fresh dirt piled up on the grave. Large bouquets of flowers were spread around the stone. Some of them were on tripods, with the stems
woven into circular wreaths big enough to fit around the head of a horse. I lifted one and stuck my head through the middle. I tried to imagine the circle as a life preserver, but it read REST IN PEACE in black ribbon.
    The cemetery must have influenced my imagination. I suddenly imagined myself trapped by the students, who wrapped me up in a ball of stringy gum and left me to rot to death like a bug caught in a spider’s web. At the funeral Miss Noelle would kneel down on my burial mound and weep.