The Watchers Read Online Free PDF Page B

me as soon as I was seated. He winked slyly.
“This is Michelle King.” She pointed to the girl on her other side,
who nodded at me. “And that’s Daniel Adams.”
    Mark leaned back so I could follow Jennifer’s
finger, which was pointing directly at Mr. Popularity. His eyes,
which had been on the same girl I had been looking at, came back to
mine, and I saw that they were cold as well, but it was a different
kind of cold. It was a cold which was kept there to hide a raging,
burning fire within. He nodded once and flicked his eyes away
towards the locker rooms, apparently already bored with the
introductions. No one else from the group seemed to merit an
introduction as, in a voice laced with excitement, Jennifer started
plying me with questions: where I was from, how I liked King’s
Cross so far, where I went to school before, what kinds of things I
was interested in…
    The rest of my new classmates listened in
with fascinated wonder; even the kids who were sitting a little
farther from the group, obviously not part of the ‘popular crowd,’
were quiet as they listened to this strange exchange.
    The questions did little to settle my nerves.
I felt as if I was being interviewed or cross-examined on the
witness stand for a murder I didn’t commit. It was hard not to.
They all thought I was some sort of wild, crazy fiend, living on
the outskirts of life; a rebel and a trouble maker, poised to set
fire to the school on a whim. That was why they were all so
interested in me and hanging on to my answers like they were
scripture. How could I explain that not everyone in cities led
adventurous, party going lives? How could I explain that not
everyone who looks Punk is Punk? How could I explain that my life
had been lived with the understanding that not being noticed was
the best way to not get dead? How could I take away years of
prejudice in one morning? It didn’t matter; I would let them think
what they wanted. It didn’t mean they knew what, or who, I was.
    Mr. Henley ambled out of his office and
cut short the twenty questions with a blow from his oversized
orange whistle. He called the roll and told us we would be playing
tennis again – apparently they had been playing it for a while –
and that we should find partners to play against. I wasn’t shocked
when my new acquaintances all had partners in seconds, leaving me
to myself on the bleachers. Typical. Their interest in me only
stretched as far as the entertainment I could provide them. At
least, it was something familiar in a day that already felt
unfamiliar and foreign. Mr. Henley noticed me as I watched the
bustle of humanity below and ambled over. “No partner, eh?” he
asked scratching his greasy brown hair. He looked over and his moon
face turned sly. “Well, you can play against Daniel then. You don’t
mind do ya, Daniel?” Sorry, kid.
    I looked over, wondering why Mr. Popularity
hadn’t partnered with Mark, who was obviously his friend. I hadn’t
noticed in the bustle of activity that Mark had partnered with what
looked like another athletic type, who shared his mental capacity
of none.
    Daniel sighed audibly at the request and
stood, but when he answered his tone was polite. “Of course not,
Coach. I’d be happy to.”
    I rolled my eyes at his hypocrisy and watched
him descend to the floor wishing I could sit the class out. He
moved past me noiselessly, as if he was walking on air rather than
hard metal, his face impassive. After a startled pause, I followed
him, stomping down the bleachers like a whole herd of baby
elephants, rejecting his silent grace. I slowly followed as he
walked to the one lone net on the very end of the gym, farthest
from the entrance, smiling at people as he passed. To me, he looked
like a diplomat on the floor of Congress politicking for all he was
worth. When we reached our net, he bent down and grabbed a racket
from the pile to hand to me. I stared at him with a frown, trying
to understand…everything.
    “What?”