Reunion Read Online Free PDF Page B

playing video games or participating in a
Star Wars
chat room on the Internet. I was sitting too far away to tell if his fingers, holding onto the chart, were shaking, but there was something about the strained expression on his face that suggested to me that they were.
    It’s especially tragic,
CeeCee scribbled,
when you consider the fact that only last month, his little sister — you don’t know her; she’s in eighth — almost drowned at some pool party and has been in a coma ever since. Talk about a family curse
…
    “So, in conclusion,” Kelly said, not even attempting to make it look like she wasn’t reading off an index card, and rushing her words all together so you could hardly tell what she was saying, “America - needs - to - spend - way - more - money - building - up - its - military - because - we - have - fallen - way - behind - the - Chinese - and - they - could - attack - us - any - time - they - wanted - to - thank - you.”
    Mr. Walden had been sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, staring over the tops of our heads at the sea, which you can see quite plainly through the windows of most of the classrooms at the Mission Academy. Now, hearing the sudden hush that fell over the classroom, he started, and dropped his feet to the floor.
    “Very nice, Kelly,” he said, even though it was obvious he hadn’t listened to a word she’d been saying. “Anybody have questions for Kelly? Okay, great, next group —”
    Then Mr. Walden blinked at me. “Um,” he said, in a strange voice. “Yes?”
    Since I hadn’t raised my hand, or in any way indicated that I had anything to say, I was somewhat taken aback by this. Then a voice behind me said, “Um, I’m sorry, but that conclusion — that we, as a country, need to start building up our military arsenal in order to compete with the Chinese — sounds grossly ill-conceived to me.”
    I turned around slowly in my chair to stare at Gina. She had a perfectly straight expression on her face. Still, I knew her.
    She was bored. This was the kind of thing Gina did when she was bored.
    Mr. Walden sat up eagerly in his chair and said, “It seems that Miss Simon’s guest disagrees with the conclusion you all have come up with, Group Seven. How would you like to respond?”
    “Ill-conceived in what way?” Kelly demanded, not consulting with any of the other members of her group.
    “Well, I just think the money you’re talking about would be better spent on other things,” Gina said, “besides making sure we have as many tanks as the Chinese. I mean, who cares if they have more tanks than we do? It’s not like they’re going to be able to drive them over to the White House and say, ‘Okay, surrender now, capitalist pigs.’ I mean, there’s a pretty big ocean between us, right?”
    Mr. Walden was practically clapping his hands with glee. “So how do you suggest the money be better spent, Miss Augustin?”
    Gina shrugged. “Well, on education, of course.”
    “What good,” Kelly wanted to know, “is an education, when you’ve got a tank bearing down on you?”
    Adam, standing beside Kelly, rolled his eyes expressively. “Maybe,” he ventured, “if we educate future generations better, they’d be able to avoid war altogether, through creative diplomacy and intelligent dialogue with their fellow man.”
    “Yeah,” Gina said. “What he said.”
    “Excuse me, but are you all on crack?” Kelly wanted to know.
    Mr. Walden threw a piece of chalk in Group Seven’s direction. It hit their chart with a loud noise, and bounced off. This was not unusual behavior on Mr. Walden’s part. He frequently threw chalk when he felt we were not paying proper attention, particularly after lunch when we were all somewhat dazed from having ingested too many corn dogs.
    What was not usual, however, was Mike Meducci’s reaction when the chalk hit the poster board he was holding. He let go of the chart with a yell, and ducked — actually ducked, with his