Read Online Don't You Wish by Roxanne St. Claire - Free Book Online Page A

gymnasium and indoor swimming pool he had built.”
    He
did
? Way to go, Dr. J. No wonder the teachers tiptoe around me.
    As Mr. Brighton returns to the front of the classroom, I lean a little closer to Zelinsky. “What book?” I ask him.
    He slides a look at me, and for the first time I can really see him. Deep, dark eyes, clear skin, a recent first-time shave over a squarish jaw.
    “You don’t even know what book he assigned?” he asks in a shocked whisper. “Man, you’re dumber than I thought.”
    I give him a hard look, the same one that worked on Bliss.
    “
Lord of the Flies
,” he says.
    “Seriously?” I ask. He rolls his eyes, and I resist the urge to grab his shirt in my enthusiasm. “William Golding’s
Lord of the Flies
?”
    “No, Justin Bieber’s version. Did you read that?”
    I want to give the bird to Hat Boy, but I’m too happy that my Day of Good Fortune is holding steady.
    “I need three symbols in
Lord of the Flies
,” Mr. Brighton announces. “And their
meaning
, people. You have fifteen minutes to talk to your partner, craft some answers, and write them out. Scores count as a quiz grade. Fifteen minutes.”
    He punctuates that with a dramatic twist of a white kitchen timer.
    “Did you read it?” I ask Zelinsky.
    “I had something else to do.”
    Hat shopping? I’m about to tell him it’s his lucky day, when my Fendi bag vibrates, and I pull out my iPhone.
    Ryder: Don’t forget about me.
    “Okay, everybody. Push your desks together and work!”
    Zelinsky moves his desk with little enthusiasm, then pulls out a piece of paper. “So we’re burned,” he says.
    Of course no one would expect Ayla to have read the book. I put my elbow on his desk and sneak a peek under the brim of the hat. “I read it last year,” I tell him.
    His eyes widen, well beyond surprise and deep into incredulity. “You
read
?”
    “Amazing, isn’t it?”
    Then he shakes his head, wheels visibly turning as his features show doubt. “Why’d you read it last year?”
    Because every sophomore in South Hills High AP English had to. “Extra credit.”
    “Yeah, right,” he snorts. “The only extra credit you do is with an American Express card.”
    I hear my mom’s voice in my head:
Extra credit is not optional
. I just clear my throat. “Excuse me, have we actually met?” I ask.
    “I’m Charlie.”
    “Hi. I’m—”
    “I know who you are.” He searches my face a little. “You seriously read the book?”
    “Yep. And
not
SparkNotes, either.” Digging for a pen in my bag, I steal another look at Ryder, who is staring at Charlie’s head like it’s target practice. He’s jealous?
    I give him a three-finger wave and smile, then hand my pen to Charlie, mentally calling up the three essays I wrote on Golding’s symbolism, the lowest grade an A-, thank you very much.
    The noise level rises around us, but I whisper to Charlie, “Face paint. The conch. Butterflies. Write those down.”
    He leans back, blown away. “Really?”
    “Well, you could argue that rituals are symbol—”
    “No, I mean, you’re not playing me? Like, you
know
this stuff?”
    “It’s a fluke,” I assure him. “Like everything else today.”
    He starts to write, dividing his attention between the paper and me. “I might have pegged you wrong.”
    “Thought I was just a dumb, rich, popular girl?”
    His color deepens. “You have that reputation.”
    I nudge him to write. “C’mon. This is timed. Face paint is a big symbol in the book. They use it for fun at first. Then it becomes camouflage.…”
    As Charlie madly writes what I’m saying, I feel some weird pressure on me. Eyes. Attention.
    Get used to it, Annie. You are no longer invisible
.
    Still, I look up from the paper, and the room is somewhathushed, and all twenty sets of eyes are staring at me, a whole classroom full of disbelief, and displeasure.
    Oh, now I get it. I’m upsetting the feng shui of this school or something. This is not how Ayla Monroe is