Read Online At-Risk by Amina Gautier - Free Book Online Page B

could understand. This was a while ago, but here’s one. His teacher called me up because he disagreed with her. What was it about? Remember?”
    â€œThe shortest distance between two points,” Peter said, his head low over his plate.
    â€œHow’s that?” Blue asked.
    â€œShe told the class that the shortest distance between two points was a straight line,” Peter explained, his voice sounding tortured.
    â€œYeah,” Blue said, as if he’d just thought of it. “It is.”
    â€œNo,” Peter said. “
Connecting
two points, but not
between
two points. I could draw a vertical line between two horizontal points that could go on infinitely.”
    â€œYeah?” Blue asked, as if it was something very special.
    â€œNever mind,” Peter said.
    Our mother wouldn’t let it go. “And what about that book report you did that almost gave your teacher a heart attack?”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it,” Peter said. He didn’t like to talk about being smart, I knew. He had told me before that he had two ways of talking: one for when he was at school and one for when he was at home.
    It was just as well he didn’t talk about the book report, since my mother and I never understood his explanations. Peter had gone into one of his phases. He’d picked up Ovid’s
Metamorphoses
andgotten hooked on Greek mythology, reading everything he could find on the subject for nearly a month. He’d tried to pull me in with stories of Titans and Olympians, but I wouldn’t let him. His favorite was Pan, the god of shepherds and flocks. He’d tried to tell me that Pan’s death was a matter of belief, that he died simply because everyone heard and repeated that he had, and that his death signaled the birth of Christianity in the classical world, but Peter succeeded only in scaring me with his facts. I didn’t want to know the things my brother knew.
    â€œSee?” our mother said. “I’ve got to deal with this day in and out. They’re about to give him an award in three weeks.”
    â€œI still say that’s good,” Blue said. “Don’t think you got those brains only from your mother’s side. Smarts run on my side of the family, too, you know.”
    â€œWhat was it like up there in rehab?” Peter asked. Our mother shook her head at him, but he ignored her. “Was it hard?”
    Blue didn’t seem to mind. “A lot of talking. All these meetings where they made you talk all the time. Tell your story again and again. How and why you got there. A lot of church, too. They took attendance at the Sunday service. So you had to be there. Or else you lost your bed.”
    â€œWhat else?” Peter asked. I kicked him under the table.
    â€œBreathalyzers at night when you came in for curfews. If you missed curfew they put you out,” he said. He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”
    â€œSometimes people deserve to be put out so they can understand what they used to have,” our mother said. “That’s the only way they appreciate anything.”
    â€œThat’s the truth if I ever heard it.” Blue shook his head and put his knife and fork down. “You know, when you want something, you can’t always just reach out and take it,” Blue said. He looked over ourheads to our mother, talking only to her. “You got to work hard for it. Then again, sooner or later, it might just fall into your lap.”
    â€œYou sure got a lot of nerve,” our mother said, smiling to show she didn’t mean it.
    Blue had gone and Peter and I were at the bathroom sink brushing our teeth before bed. Peter hadn’t said a word since Blue left. He didn’t seem to know how lucky he was to have his father back. My own father was dead and buried; I never wondered about him. He was not nearly as interesting to me as the flesh and blood Blue, the Blue who could