Saving Francesca Read Online Free PDF

have the ability to take control of our lives at this school.”
    They all look at me.
    How can my weak personality resist such a challenge?
    William Trombal and the other leaders have a little office just outside Administration.
    I stand out front for a moment or two and hear music coming from inside. I knock on the door and walk in. He’s in there with another two House leaders, and they all look up for a moment.
    “Yours?” one of the House leaders asks him, smirking at me. I look away for a moment, concentrating on the poster of two league stars with bloodstained faces hugging each other.
    “I’ll see you later,” I hear Trombal tell the other guys as they walk past me out the door.
    When we’re alone, he sits back in his chair and turns down the music.
    “I’m not going to get into a discussion about a tampon machine,” he tells me bluntly.
    I don’t respond, and he looks at me and holds up one hand as if to say, What?
    So much for Ms. Quinn’s “he’s actually quite shy.”
    “The girls would like to arrange a game with the guys.”
    “We don’t play netball.”
    “Basketball.”
    He gives a laugh, but he’s not laughing with me.
    “I don’t want to sound patronizing, but we won the CBSA finals last term.”
    “Just a goodwill game,” I explain.
    “We wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he says. “The guys can be aggressive.”
    “Tell them it’s friendly.”
    He thinks for a moment, looking me straight in the eye.
    Don’t look away, I tell myself. But then I regret not looking away, because I feel my face going red and I don’t know why.
    “Who’s your captain?” he asks.
    “Eva Rodriguez.”
    “Good-looking girl who looks like Jennifer Lopez?”
    I’m poker-face cool and it’s killing me, but I don’t say anything. He fishes something out of his pocket and I notice that it’s our list of requests, and I can’t help being surprised that he has it on him. He opens it up and reads down the list, and for a moment I see the paper flap, as if the hand holding it can’t control itself, and then I realize that William Trombal is nervous.
    I’m making him nervous.
    “Request number four,” he says, reading from the list. “An opportunity to play competitive sports.”
    I nod, as if I know exactly what request number four is.
    “Why not?” he says with a shrug.
    I hold out my hand to shake on it. Luca and I do that all the time, and for a moment I feel so childish, but I’m too embarrassed to retrieve the hand.
    “No complaining if anyone breaks a nail?” he asks, looking at my outstretched hand, but he doesn’t extend his.
    “You can complain all you like. You can cry as well,” I tell him.
    I get a hint of a smile and then he shakes my hand.
    “I’ll see what the guys say.”
    “Thank you.”
    “What did you say your name was? Francis . . .”
    “My name’s Francesca.”
    Detention drags on. Thomas Mackee sits next to me, scribbling on what looks like a music sheet. He’s a guitarist. Sometimes, as he’s walking to music class, he serenades Ms. Quinn, who, despite his being an idiot, actually has a bit of a giggle. He nudges me, almost sending me sprawling.
    “Do you know how to convert notes into tablature?” he asks me in his duh-brain voice.
    I pretend he’s not there.
    “Are you retarded?” he asks.
    I ignore him.
    “Do you know anything?”
    This coming from the Big Kahuna of Knowledge.
    “Do you?” he presses.
    “I know you’re a dickhead, and for the time being, that’s all I need to know,” I say flatly.
    “Ooh, you’re turning me on.”
    That’s as clever as our conversations get. Sometimes Jimmy Hailler joins in when he’s not torturing the younger kids. Thomas Mackee and Jimmy Hailler grasp each other’s hands, one of those brothers-in-arms-we-fought-in-Nam-together grips, but outside this room I don’t think they relate.
    “What’s the punishment today?” Jimmy Hailler asks.
    “Ten different lines. Must have some form of the word