The Scarlet Letterman Read Online Free PDF Page A

snorts and rolls over, then begins a loud chain of snores. It’s one of the few times I’ve been glad that Blade snores. There’s something reassuring about a roommate who can sleep through nearly anything.
    I think back to the short-lived two-week Christmas break, back when I slept in a room decorated with pink gingham, and I wonder if I’m ever going to get back to a place where I can peacefully sleep through the night without dreaming about monsters. There’s one thing about Bard that never changes. It always seems to give me nightmares.
    I’m awake now, and I know I won’t be able to go back to sleep. I creep over to my desk, careful not to make any sudden sounds, even though I doubt anything would wake Blade up. I pull my backpack off my chair.
    Blade snorts in her sleep, and I temporarily freeze. When she shifts under the covers and starts snoring again, I grab my dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights, the one I’ve read and reread, and flip to the middle of the book, where I keep the note Heathcliff sent me.
    Delicately I unfold it, taking in Heathcliff’s shaky handwriting, and rereading it for the thousandth time.
    “You are my soul. So long as you exist, so do I. Yours forever, H.”
    I trace the H with my finger. I can’t believe he’d just stop talking to me. Not after sending me this note. I think about his thick dark hair and mysterious eyes.
    Where is he?

Six

    “Did you hear? There was another attack of the Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker,” says Blade the next morning over breakfast (something lumpy, yellow, and watery that may or may not have been an egg-based product).
    “You can’t be serious ,” Hana sniffs. She still does not believe the Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker exists. She thinks Parker is making it all up.
    “Who did he attack?” I ask, all the while wondering if that is Heathcliff what in the world is he doing?
    “Some girl, who apparently didn’t know Parker,” Blade says. “I overheard the story in the shower this morning. This girl — her name was Amanda or something — was with the crew team, and was walking down by the river where they practice. She said this guy jumped out of nowhere and knocked her down.”
    “We’ve got a crew team?” I ask.
    “Duh,” Blade says. “Anyway, that’s it. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt, but she didn’t see his face. Just like Parker.”
    “So there wasn’t a rape?”
    “No rape. Nothing like that. Just shoving.”
    “So why is everyone calling him a stalker? He should be called a shover,” Hana says.
    “You still don’t believe Parker is telling the truth?” Blade asks.
    “I just think it’s all a bit convenient,” Hana says. “Right, Miranda?”
    “Um, yeah, right,” I say, wondering if my suspicions about the Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker are right. Is he Heathcliff? And if so, should I tell someone? But who?
    I decide I can’t be sure if it’s Heathcliff. After all, I didn’t see his face, either.
    Before my first class, I duck into the bathroom, and while I’m in the stall, a few girls come in, voices I don’t recognize. While I’m there, I hear a conversation that goes like:
    “He’s so dreamy. I mean, you heard what he did for Parker.”
    “He totally saved her from the Hooded Sweatshirt Stalker,” says another.
    I perk up at this. Are they talking about Ryan? They must be. Who else would “save” Parker?
    “He even walks her to class,” says another.
    “I wouldn’t mind him walking me to the bedroom,” says another.
    “Doesn’t he have a girlfriend, though?”
    “Yeah, but I don’t know what he sees in her. I mean, look at her.”
    “She’s like, completely flat.”
    “Totally.”
    “And I don’t think she’s even that pretty.”
    “I mean, Ryan could have any girl he wanted…”
    Ryan. It’s for certain now. There’s only one Ryan at Bard that a group of three girls would be gossiping about. That’s my Ryan. And the flat-chested girl they’re talking about is me.
    I flush, and step