Truth and Lies Read Online Free PDF

licks in.
    â€œLooks like someone was asleep during law lecture at police college,” I’d say. Or something like that.
    Tonight, though, Riel was quiet. He worked his way through two burgers, chewing, swallowing, not smiling, not talking. Thinking, I guessed, about Mr. Ducharme and Robbie. No way was I going to start in on that topic.

    Ms. Stephenson sighed.
    â€œAct four, scene five,” she said again. “Can
anyone
tell me what is going on in that scene?”
    Four hands shot up. Diane Davis, Shirlene Fletcher, Bryce MacNeil, and Sam Yee. Honor roll, honor roll, honor roll, honor roll. University bound. Keeners.
    Ms. Stephenson looked beyond their hands and settled on Nera Singh. I let out a great big silent sigh of relief. If she was looking at Nera, she wasn’t looking at me. Sometimes that was the best you could hope for.
    Nera flipped through his copy of the play, the pages
shwick-shwick-shwick
ing softly, until he found act four, scene five. I watched him squint at one page and then another while Ms. Stephenson waited. Nera’s face puckered in concentration. He began to shake his head. He looked up at Ms. Stephenson, his shoulders rolled up around his ears.
    â€œThe time to read the play is
before
you come to class,” Ms. Stephenson said. She turned and nodded at Sam Yee.“Please tell us what’s going on in this scene, Sam.”
    â€œOphelia’s gone crazy,” Sam said. He was on the student council. Vice president of some dumb thing or other. He was one of the kids who read out school announcements over the PA system in the morning. He couldn’t do it straight, either. No, he was always making lame jokes and trying to sound like whoever was the hottest comic on TV. Vin and Sal and I used to argue about who we thought he was trying to be. We almost never agreed, he was that bad.
    â€œOphelia’s gone crazy,” Ms. Stephenson repeated, in case anyone had missed Sam’s brilliant answer. “Thank you, Sam.” She peered around the room for her next victim. “And who would like to tell me what has driven poor Ophelia to madness?”
    Many heads ducked to many books. All around me, fingers ran down lines of text in search of an answer. Jeez, I hated Shakespeare. Why couldn’t we read a play in regular English, something you had at least half a chance of being able to skim?
    â€œMike?” Ms. Stephenson said.
    I glanced down at my book, but what was the point? I wasn’t going to be able to come up with the right answer. I shrugged at Ms. Stephenson and tried to look like I was sorry.
    Ms. Stephenson sighed again. She also taught drama, so her breath came out like a rush of wind. She looked around again.
    â€œSalvatore?” she said. “You look like someone whocan tell us something about the subject of madness. Would you enlighten us all, please?”
    Sal had been hunched over his desk, looking like he usually did these days, like a guy who never slept, a guy who was being eaten alive by something.
    â€œSalvatore?” Ms. Stephenson said.
    Sal’s head bobbed up. His eyes were red around the edges. He seemed to be making an effort to focus on her.
    â€œMadness,” Ms. Stephenson prompted. “I’m sure
you
can tell us what has driven Ophelia to madness.”
    Sal spasmed to a full upright position, like he’d been jolted with a stun gun. He swept the room with wild eyes. Then he jumped to his feet. He stared at Ms. Stephenson, his mouth open. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, maybe even shout something. Then he grabbed his backpack from under his desk and bolted from the room. A couple of guys—guys in the back of the room—laughed.
    â€œTalk about madness,” someone said. More people laughed.
    I stared at the door. What was with Sal? I didn’t even think about it, I just stood up. Ms. Stephenson gave me a sharp look.
    â€œSit down,” she said. She crossed