The Next Queen of Heaven-SA Read Online Free PDF Page B

from Paris, France, where they did math the French way, which is why she needed remedial, and Hannah’s family was so old and highbrow that they hadn’t had to produce a working brain cell in generations. Both girls sucked big time.

    Their heads were snared in lunchroom lady hairnets. Their candy-striper aprons didn’t close in the back and they must have made sure to wear their tightest fitting jeans so old men left in wheelchairs could sharpen their noses between blue-denimed cheeks.

    “It is such a bore, it sweeps me with ennui,” said Solange. Only it sounded like Eet ees sush a bore, eet sweeps me with ennui.

    “Je suis pretty fatigué myself,” said Hannah. “I hope we don’t get Pediatrics. Last time one of those little cancer kids almost broke my arm trying to make me drag him out of there. I nearly had to kick him.”

    “I prefer ze department of ze elderly madames. It is more easier there, because they never want to converse with any young and lovely girl.”

    You can’t be talking about yourself, thought Tabitha. You could freeze-dry a croissant just by looking at it.

    They wandered up the aisle. Tabitha didn’t want to run into them, but they did provide a distraction of sorts. So she found herself following them one aisle over. She could always snub them in person if they turned a corner and caught her.

    When she was within earshot again, she got an earful. “I do think Mr. Finn will give you a passing grade,” Solange was saying. “He knows you will need ze maths in order to select a decent college. And he likes you. I see that he likes you.”

    “You’re dreadful.” Hannah was blushing. As if Hannah could even imagine what having someone like you could do to you, turning your spine to jelly, making of your vagina a sixth sense. She’d probably never kissed a boy. You could kind of tell.

    “Anyway,” continued Hannah, “Mom’s family wanted me to go to Radcliffe only it’s part of Harvard now, so we don’t know about that.”

    Harvard? Fat chance. You get lost doing laps in the county pool, Hannah.

    “I believe every scholar in Mr. Finn’s class will achieve many diplomas and proceed toward university,” said Solange. “Except for only one.”

    Here it comes, thought Tabitha.

    Hannah grimaced. “Tabby’s special.”

    “Special?” Solange didn’t know the lingo.

    “Special. Special needs, to start with. She’ll be lucky if she graduates. And special because she sure acts like she thinks she’s a hot ticket. Anyway I doubt she’s doing college prep.
    She’ll be married and pregnant before next year.”

    “Well, she can keep her special eyes off my little brioche.”

    “She’s probably already taken a big bite out of your little brioche. Better check the goods before you buy.” They laughed wickedly.

    I hate them, thought Tabitha. What’s a brioche?

    “You’re joking, though,” said Solange. “Is she that bad?”

    “She’s so good, is the locker-room news, she’s extra bad. She’s done the whole football team in alphabetical order.”

    “She knows her alphabet that well?”

    “Well, le ordaire alphabétique isn’t the important part. She knows something.” Hannah sounded a little wistful.

    You bet the fuck I know something, thought Tabitha.

    “I can’t find it. We’re going to be late. You got what you came for?”

    “For my yeast infection, yes,” said Solange. “Had we better depart?” They left. Tabitha liberated a PowerBar on the way out. Lord, give me strength, she thought. On the silence of her rubber-soled Reeboks she followed her classmates twenty paces behind. They passed through a door propped open with a chair and Tabitha heard a sound of metal locker doors banging, and she saw her classmates continue through an interior door to some further station. Probably to get their assignments.

    She hoped it wasn’t the E.R.

    None of the lockers had locks on them. By the third try Tabitha had found Solange’s waxy white