Old Wounds Read Online Free PDF

front of the room. I guessed that it was all I was going to get. It was customary to give your name in return when someone introduced themselves to you, but whatever; I already knew it anyway.
    I pretty much zoned out until Mr. Reese called on Rusty Dalton. When he hesitated before answering, I tried to remember the question so I could whisper the answer to him. That was a nice thing to do, right? But suddenly he took a very deep breath, his hands clenching together on the desk before his head rose just slightly. “A-A-A-Act-t-tinomycccccetes,” he finally said and blew out a breath of relief as Mr. Reese indicated that he was correct.
    Chris Anderson turned around and narrowed his eyes at my table partner. “V-v-very g-g-good, D-D-Dalton,” he said and broke out in quiet laughter.
    Rusty Dalton sighed and lowered his head, looking at his clenched hands. So, what? He had a stutter, which made sense now after hearing Chris and Megan’s comments. Jesus, high school sucked.
    I narrowed my eyes at Chris and when he turned to me, I said, “Don’t be a dick.” He glared at me, but thankfully turned back around.
    The rest of class was boring. When the bell rang, Rusty Dalton packed up his books and left without saying a word. P.E. went by without incident, except for when I “accidently” slammed my elbow into Chris Anderson’s head when we were playing basketball. He was a dick, and while I never really had violent tendencies before, I wanted him to hurt for being an asshole. I wasn’t really clumsy, but it never ceased to amaze me how much the other gender would let me get away with. All I had to do was give him big doe-eyes and bat my eyelashes and he was over his momentary anger and sending me puppy eyes back.
    Just as promised, Jason was waiting for me out front and gave me a ride to his house in his old beat-up Cavalier. His house felt familiar, but I didn’t get much of a chance to remark on that since Jason took me directly into his room where he proceeded to show me his extensive collection of buds and paraphernalia. Before I could get him to reveal his pricing, he swept me into his arms and proceeded to resume where we’d left off this afternoon.
    Mere moments was all it took for me to be spread out on his rickety old desktop, my shirt pulled up, bra cups down, pants hanging off of one leg, my head thumping against the wall. Jason was really good. It seemed such a waste for one teenage boy to be so good at this, especially in Damascus, Maryland, where it wouldn’t be appreciated.
    He looked so cool too. Most boys had some kind of epileptic fit, but not Jason. There were a few grunts and “oh, yeahs” thrown in for good measure, but he maintained his cool even through his orgasm. His eyes were on me the entire time, even as he withdrew and peeled off the condom, tossing it into the trashcan.
    As I tugged my shirt back down and watched him pull up his pants, zipping them, but leaving the top button unbuttoned, I felt the need to let him know the deal. “Just FYI, Jason, don’t go all romantic on me or any shit like that, okay?”
    A smile played on his face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “I’m not the girlfriend type, so don’t think that what we just did means anything more than what it was.”
    He looked unimpressed.
    “What?”
    “In case no one told you, Sophie Young,” he began in a light voice “I’m not the boyfriend type, so we should get along just fine.” Then he sat back down on the edge of his bed as I pulled up my pants, shoving my feet back into my shoes. “So about this weed you want…”

    Jason had cut me a fantastic deal on the quarter I took home, basically just charging me for an eighth. It wasn’t ditch weed either. Little to no shake in that bag. He loaned me a bowl, but it would rarely get used, and gave me a dugout and a one-hitter too. Before dropping me off at home, he took me to the store so I’d actually have food to cook for dinner, and he