Read Online Clutches and Curses by Dorothy Howell - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy Howell
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wealthy family, they faked it. âSmartâ kids were befriended by âcoolâ kids just for help with grades.
Not that I had ever done any of these things, of course.
But since we were literally locked behind a gate during school hours, I learned to survive. And, of course, thrive.
Thatâs how I roll.
I scrolled through the Monroe High Web site, seeing pictures of the computer lab, art studio, theater, TV studio, gymnasium, and classrooms, and remembered Courtney Collins.
I hadnât really thought about Courtney since high school. She was one of those girls I was glad to never see again after graduation. Our only connection was some classes weâd had together.
Plus, there was that whole thing with Robbie Freedman.
Courtney had not been my best friendânot even my sort-of friend. Honestly, Iâd never really liked her. She didnât seem to know that, though, which was really irritating because she always talked to me and sat next to me in class.
Everything about Courtney annoyed me. First of all, she was really nice. I mean really nice. Like, she didnât have enough sense to see what was going on around her and know she should be upset, or mad, or something.
Second of all, the teachers loved herâor maybe they just felt sorry for her. I donât know. Courtney was in my art class and for an entire semester everything she drew, sketched, painted, and sculpted had the same stupid stained-glass pattern. At the school art fair that spring, Courtneyâs painting got first placeâbut only because the teacher helped her with itâmine got second. At graduation, she got a couple of scholarships and some awardsânot that I thought I deserved them, but still.
Then, of course, there was that thing with Robbie Freedman.
I clicked onto the âalumniâ icon. A list of Monroe graduatesâ names along with their accomplishments filled the screen. Jeez, when did the school start doing this?
I scrolled through a few of the names I remembered from high school. Most people had already graduated college, some were in med school or law school. One guy had opened his own dot-com company and was already a millionaire. A girlâwhoâd definitely had some work done, judging from the photo sheâd postedâwas starring in a Broadway play. Everybody was doing big things.
Everybody but me.
Not a good feeling.
Then it hit me. Oh my God, lots of graduates from Monroe had probably logged onto the site, wondering what Iâd done with my life. I paged down and clicked my name. Nothing came up.
Jeez, I couldnât let people think I hadnât accomplished anything. Of course, I couldnât let them know what Iâd actually done, either.
I set up an alumni account with a password, and paused, my fingers on the keyboard trying to decide what to write. Absolute truthfulness in this sort of situation wasnât required. I mean, half of the graduating class had probably stretched their accomplishments, right?
Then it occurred to me that no matter how far I stretched the things Iâd done, nobody from Monroe High School would be impressed. So I typed in that I did undercover work but couldnât disclose anything more, as a matter of national security. Just enough info to be intriguing and make me sound important, without actually entering any facts that might prove embarrassing in the future if some Monroe alumni checked into them and decided to rat me out.
Some things never change, even after high school.
I clicked on Courtneyâs page on the Web site and was surprised to see the only info sheâd listed was her move to Henderson. Iâm not sure what I expected to find. Certainly not that she had some big career going. Courtney never struck me as being that bright.
I entered her name into a search engine and eventually found an article about women and small businesses that sheâd been mentioned in for the local newspaper. Wow, Courtney
Not that I had ever done any of these things, of course.
But since we were literally locked behind a gate during school hours, I learned to survive. And, of course, thrive.
Thatâs how I roll.
I scrolled through the Monroe High Web site, seeing pictures of the computer lab, art studio, theater, TV studio, gymnasium, and classrooms, and remembered Courtney Collins.
I hadnât really thought about Courtney since high school. She was one of those girls I was glad to never see again after graduation. Our only connection was some classes weâd had together.
Plus, there was that whole thing with Robbie Freedman.
Courtney had not been my best friendânot even my sort-of friend. Honestly, Iâd never really liked her. She didnât seem to know that, though, which was really irritating because she always talked to me and sat next to me in class.
Everything about Courtney annoyed me. First of all, she was really nice. I mean really nice. Like, she didnât have enough sense to see what was going on around her and know she should be upset, or mad, or something.
Second of all, the teachers loved herâor maybe they just felt sorry for her. I donât know. Courtney was in my art class and for an entire semester everything she drew, sketched, painted, and sculpted had the same stupid stained-glass pattern. At the school art fair that spring, Courtneyâs painting got first placeâbut only because the teacher helped her with itâmine got second. At graduation, she got a couple of scholarships and some awardsânot that I thought I deserved them, but still.
Then, of course, there was that thing with Robbie Freedman.
I clicked onto the âalumniâ icon. A list of Monroe graduatesâ names along with their accomplishments filled the screen. Jeez, when did the school start doing this?
I scrolled through a few of the names I remembered from high school. Most people had already graduated college, some were in med school or law school. One guy had opened his own dot-com company and was already a millionaire. A girlâwhoâd definitely had some work done, judging from the photo sheâd postedâwas starring in a Broadway play. Everybody was doing big things.
Everybody but me.
Not a good feeling.
Then it hit me. Oh my God, lots of graduates from Monroe had probably logged onto the site, wondering what Iâd done with my life. I paged down and clicked my name. Nothing came up.
Jeez, I couldnât let people think I hadnât accomplished anything. Of course, I couldnât let them know what Iâd actually done, either.
I set up an alumni account with a password, and paused, my fingers on the keyboard trying to decide what to write. Absolute truthfulness in this sort of situation wasnât required. I mean, half of the graduating class had probably stretched their accomplishments, right?
Then it occurred to me that no matter how far I stretched the things Iâd done, nobody from Monroe High School would be impressed. So I typed in that I did undercover work but couldnât disclose anything more, as a matter of national security. Just enough info to be intriguing and make me sound important, without actually entering any facts that might prove embarrassing in the future if some Monroe alumni checked into them and decided to rat me out.
Some things never change, even after high school.
I clicked on Courtneyâs page on the Web site and was surprised to see the only info sheâd listed was her move to Henderson. Iâm not sure what I expected to find. Certainly not that she had some big career going. Courtney never struck me as being that bright.
I entered her name into a search engine and eventually found an article about women and small businesses that sheâd been mentioned in for the local newspaper. Wow, Courtney
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