Signs of You Read Online Free PDF Page B

suffered the nickname Booberever since. So instead of choosing to suffer, we dragged a couple of stools into the shower stall and sat reading Twitter on our phones. It was lame, but way better than dodging a large inf lated rubber ball for an hour to cries of “Boober in the rear! Boober in the front!”
    Noah peers into his biggieCoke cup to see if any is left. “I swear I’m going to beat the crap out of that guy one day.”
    Jay and I opt to nod sympathetically rather than say what I know we’re both thinking: yeah, right. Noah has his share of muscles, but they’re the long and lean soccer-guy type—not the beefcake, trunk-of-a-tree kind like Carl has. My money would have to be on Carl in a f ight. But of course there never will be a f ight, because Noah in fact has a brain, unlike Carl.
    I grab a few of the McDonald’s napkins out of Noah’s hands and try to help. I’m smiling again and Noah is smiling now, too, at least. We both know idiots like Carl will torment us until graduation day; it’s guaranteed, like having to take the SATs. Best just to laugh it off. But out of the corner of my eye, I catch Jay watching me, sizing me up, gauging if I’m really okay after I drove off like a maniac last night.
    â€œLet’s walk,” he says to me. “We’ve got ten minutes before the bell.”
    I can’t look at him. I’m worried I’ll come unglued again. I can feel what he’s thinking— I know you aren’t okay, Riley. Start talking. And I’m just so tired. So damned tired. I can’t talk about any of this right now. I just—can’t.
    Fortunately, the fourth member of our little dysfunctional clan shows up next. Kate’s iPod earbuds are jammed in her ears, and her gorgeous black hair is tied up in an unruly knot on her head.
    â€œWho you listening to?” I ask. I eye her iPod, trying to see if it’s a new one. Kate was thrown into Back on Track because she responded to the death of her aunt by stealing her mother’s credit card. (In addition to failing all her classes, like the rest of us.) She bought everything from new f ive hundred dollar boots to a stupidly expensive purse. And she’s still doing it. She “borrows” cash or her mom’s card on a semi-regular basis. She claims it’s a compulsion, and maybe it is. You have to watch her like a hawk.
    â€œJUDDS,” she says way too loud. “AND DON’T WORRY, THE IPOD IS OLD.”
    Jay reaches over and gently takes her headphones out. “You’re screaming,” he says. “And listening to country music. Those are two very serious early-morning violations around here.”
    â€œWhatever.” As she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, I look for any signs that she’s about to lose it, too. We both tried on the cross, and if my hypothesis is right about some weird Catholic curse, then she’d be seeing strange things, too. But she looks totally normal and decidedly un-freaked-out. “My aunt Lilly was originally from Kentucky,” she says as another piece of hair escapes from her disorganized bun. “And she always said that down there the Judds are considered honorary colonels.”
    â€œHonorary colonels, huh?” I ask. Kate nods. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but I can tell I’m supposed to be impressed—so I am. “Well, I guess I’ll have to give the Judds some more thought,” I say.
    Kate smiles and heads for her f irst class. Even though I know I’d rather be dragged behind a herd of wild horses than be forced to listen to one note of Kate’s music, I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I make it my general policy in life not to be an obnoxious ass, and am continually surprised by the number of people who seem not to share this goal.
    â€œIf I’m ever captured by terrorists, there could be no greater torture than if they