The Downside of Being Up Read Online Free PDF

milk. I didn’t even turn around to see where it had come from.
    Next stop . . . the executioner’s chamber.

6
    On my way to math class, three guys socked me, two tried to trip me and one tried to stick a Magic Marker so far into my ear that I thought they were going to color my brain. Maybe decontaminating Gramps’s yellow belly-button ooze would’ve been a better way to go.
    Also, I was concerned that I’d only had one boner all day, the one I woke up with. I swear those things were like roosters . . . up at dawn every morning, making it almost impossible to take a pee.
    â€œPlease,” I said to the Gods of Stiffness. “Please don’t torture me next period.”
    I didn’t get a reply. Figures.
    â€œWell, how am I supposed to manage these things, then?” I asked the Lords of Peckerdom.
    Again, no response. Urgh. So frustrating.
    In some ways, walking into math class felt like returning to the scene of a crime I never meant to commit. Of course, I sat down at my usual desk and tried to act as if everything was cool. As kids filed into the room, almost all of them had a comment, a look or a giggle for me. My life had turned into a source of nonstop chuckles for every student in the school. It was absolutely terrible.
    And then it got worse.
    While waiting for the teacher, I suddenly saw the girl who had said hi to me earlier in the day when Mom first dropped me off. Wow, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
    I stared as she crossed the room, taking in every small detail about her. The way the red and white stripes of her socks perfectly matched the red and white stripes of her shirtsleeve. That she had six bracelets on her left wrist but only two on her right. That she wore a silver thumb ring.
    We made eye contact. I smiled. She smiled back.
    Look at those green eyes. Amazing!
    Now, I’m not one of those goofballs who believes in love at first sight—or in this case, love at second sight—or any nonsense like that, but when I saw this girl, something hit me.
    Hit me hard.
    And there was only one thing in the world I was hoping for just then.
    That she’d been hit, too.
    I stared at my mystery girl as she took a seat, one row up and one row over from me, the absolute perfect placement in class for me to gawk all day at this angel from heaven above.
    I turned to Finkelstein “Who’s that?”.
    â€œHer name’s Allison Summers, and she’s hot like barbecue corn,” Finkelstein answered. “A new fishie in the pond, only her second day.”
    â€œShe’s beautiful,” I said.
    â€œToo bad for you she’s also the new math teacher’s daughter.”
    Suddenly, a shadow rose from behind me, darkening my desk. It appeared like a storm cloud.
    â€œSo, you’re the famous Bobby Connor?”
    Gulp. I slumped in my chair.
    â€œMy name is Mr. Summers, and I am the new mathematics instructor,” he began. Mrs. Mank, it turned out, broke her hip, ankle and fibula during the tumble she took two days ago. Word was she’d be out at least six months, maybe eight.
    â€œNow, I do hope there will be no more ‘issues’ for you in this classroom, Bobby,” Mr. Summers said in a stern, serious voice. He had brown eyes, a strong jaw and the most perfectly groomed mustache I’d ever seen on a man. Black and straight and totally even. It was as if he’d measured every whisker with a ruler.
    â€œUm, no sir,” I answered. “No issues at all.”
    Of course, we both knew I was lying. The truth is that the compass in my corduroys could point due north at any moment, and there wasn’t a dang thing to be done about it.
    â€œGood,” Mr. Summers said. From my upward-looking angle, I could see straight into his nostrils. They were like little pink caves with short, manicured hair. Ew! “Because I like order, Bobby,” he continued. “Order is the natural state of the