Through Indigo's Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page A

movement, like a James Dean lope, his long legs striding forward, his arms hanging loose by his sides, his sharp shoulders squared and uniform. And he wore those crazy flip-flops almost all year long. Who did that? John. John did that. He did everything that was different, and that was why I was breathing as if I’d just run a cross-country race. He pulled a book from the pouch of his sweatshirt and started to read as he walked. I wondered what he was reading.
    Poetry?
    Something philosophical?
    Something profound and riveting?
    â€œDid you see him look at you?” Lacey whispered. “You have got to go to that party, Indie.”
    I stood stock-still for a brief moment, unable to speak. I had to let my heart rate lower before I even attempted any words. No one wore plain sweatshirts with no logos to school but John. Logos were status. He didn’t care about status. He had the confidence to be himself. He kept his head bowed as he read but didn’t bump into a single person.
    I turned and faced Lacey. “You’re right,” I said. “I have to go. Will Burke want to go with me, though?” Enough was enough; I had to make my move. If I didn’t, high school would be over and … I shook my head. I couldn’t think like that.
    Then a thought hit me. Perhaps if I went with Burke, I could also stop him from cheating on Lacey. I would have another reason to be at the party, instead of just to see John.
    I needed purpose to give me courage.
    â€œWhy not? He likes you. Thinks you’re funny,” said Lacey.
    I laughed to appear normal. “You’re kidding, right? I’m never funny.”
    Lacey laughed. “Yeah, you are. You’re funny because you think you’re not. Who else can lip-synch and play air guitar like you?” She held out her hand. “You let me copy, and I’ll get Burke to take you to the party.”

    Â 
    Chapter Three
    As Lacey had promised, Burke picked me up on Saturday night. Normally, this is something that I would have tried to avoid, but since I didn’t know where the party was, and Lacey had already set it up, I had no choice. I would suck it up and try to make conversation with Burke.
    He knocked on the door, and I stepped outside and shivered. In the summer, the heat of the day carried into the night, but not in the fall. In the day, it could be beautiful and hot, T-shirt weather, but at night, a jacket was necessary. I did up the snaps on my jean jacket. Burke, of course, wore his Ottawa 67’s logoed black hockey jacket, complete with name and position emblazoned on the sleeve, team logo on the front, and team name in letters on the back.
    Once in the car, I did up my seat belt and asked, “How’s your hockey team doing?” I knew enough about hockey to ask a few, hopefully correct, questions. To live in Ottawa and not be a fan of the Ottawa Senators NHL team was almost a crime, according to my dad and Brian and, well, the rest of the people in Ottawa. When Dad and Brian droned on about the Senators, Mom and I would roll our eyes, smile, and start our own conversation.
    â€œGreat,” replied Burke as he backed out of my driveway. “We’re six and oh.”
    â€œMeaning?” Okay, so I didn’t know that much.
    Burke glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “We’ve won six games and lost none.”
    I nodded. Why would he think I would know something like that ?
    We drove down my street and turned onto Bank. I glanced out the window, and we drove by a community arena, which resembled a big old barn. In our town, indoor hockey arenas sat on every corner, and once the temperature dipped below zero, the outdoor community hockey rinks were as common as the golden McDonald’s arches. In the winter, kids played outside on frozen ice rinks until they couldn’t feel their toes in their skates because it was such a Canadian thing to do. Believe me, I was never one of those kids.