Read Online Driver's Ed by Caroline B. Cooney - Free Book Online
Authors: Caroline B. Cooney
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Instead every muscle in his body kicked in, shouting for exercise. When other people could argue, Morgan needed to hit punching bags.
It had been a great night. There had been no real danger in his life for a long time. He wanted more of it.
He laughed at himself. Like taking a sign equals danger, he thought ruefully.
He picked up his clothes from the cellar floor, went up two flights, and stuffed them in his washing machine. He had so much crammed in there now there wasnât room for water. The sleeve of his sweater wouldnât go in.
He wondered what it would be like under Remyâs sweater.
B y morning Remy was rehearsed for anything.
She was prepared to be ignored totally, in case Morgan had changed his mind or never had his mind the way she wanted it. In case Morgan was wholly involved with Chase and Taft on some dumb subject like pro football and never looked her way.
If that happened, she had to get through it without a change of expression, never mind desperate sobbing or crazed pleading.
On the other hand, she was ready to be asked out in front of the whole class. To be kissed and hugged in public.
If that happened she also had to act normal. Like of course this was usual for her.
She ran her mind over the schedule of the day, and that portion she shared with Morgan Campbell.
Driverâs Ed â¦Â Mr. Fielding could not possibly take the same three kids driving three days in a row.Even Mr. Fielding would notice a certain repetition among faces. So she and Morgan would stay in the library.
Would they acknowledge each other? Would they allow the world to catch a glimpse of what had passed between them last night? Would they allow themselves to admit it?
M organ Campbell woke up in the morning feeling like a rag doll with button eyes. Never mind weight lifting and rowing. He had to handle having a crush on a girl, and he had to do it in front of people. The whole idea made him limp.
In Concert Choir, Morganâs eyes were so stuck to the music page, there might have been magnets involved.
In Driverâs Ed he walked blindly next to Chase, and hid behind Taft, like a toddler behind his mother.
He didnât look Remyâs way. He didnât talk to her. He didnât wave.
He was so practiced at ignoring his parents and staying silent next to them that it was relatively easy to ignore Remy and stay silent next to her. How will she know I want to do it again, he thought, if I ignore her?
He went on ignoring her. Actually,
ignore
was hardly the word. Except for Remy, Morgan was hardly even conscious. She was the world, and yet there he was focusing on ceiling cracks and linoleum splits.
Error, he thought, the word flickering in his mind the way it did on computer screens.
This was a game of chicken in which he was the chicken, and if he didnât get brave, heâd be a loser forever.
He didnât get brave. He just tightened in on himself, as if he were a fortress in need of defense.
He skipped Current Events. The stress of another class with Remy was too much.
J V games began at four-thirty.
Girls of Remyâs grade and playing level had usually given up by now. Remy didnât have good hands, or a feel for movement and strategy. She often wondered why she stuck with basketball. But sitting on the bench, toes pressed down hard inside her thick sneakers, she would yearn to play. You never knew whether the coach would put you in. His rotations were based on something Remy did not understand and which the parents said grumpily was called favoritism.
It was clear that Morgan Campbell was sorry he had ever gotten near her. By the light of day he must have realized Remy did not possess the perfection he required. Morgan was probably even now fantasizing about Alexandra.
Remy wanted to go home and cry; cry for hours; cry for years.
She was stuck with the basketball schedule and must play against Central. She made herself think of other things. Socks. Who yanked them up
It had been a great night. There had been no real danger in his life for a long time. He wanted more of it.
He laughed at himself. Like taking a sign equals danger, he thought ruefully.
He picked up his clothes from the cellar floor, went up two flights, and stuffed them in his washing machine. He had so much crammed in there now there wasnât room for water. The sleeve of his sweater wouldnât go in.
He wondered what it would be like under Remyâs sweater.
B y morning Remy was rehearsed for anything.
She was prepared to be ignored totally, in case Morgan had changed his mind or never had his mind the way she wanted it. In case Morgan was wholly involved with Chase and Taft on some dumb subject like pro football and never looked her way.
If that happened, she had to get through it without a change of expression, never mind desperate sobbing or crazed pleading.
On the other hand, she was ready to be asked out in front of the whole class. To be kissed and hugged in public.
If that happened she also had to act normal. Like of course this was usual for her.
She ran her mind over the schedule of the day, and that portion she shared with Morgan Campbell.
Driverâs Ed â¦Â Mr. Fielding could not possibly take the same three kids driving three days in a row.Even Mr. Fielding would notice a certain repetition among faces. So she and Morgan would stay in the library.
Would they acknowledge each other? Would they allow the world to catch a glimpse of what had passed between them last night? Would they allow themselves to admit it?
M organ Campbell woke up in the morning feeling like a rag doll with button eyes. Never mind weight lifting and rowing. He had to handle having a crush on a girl, and he had to do it in front of people. The whole idea made him limp.
In Concert Choir, Morganâs eyes were so stuck to the music page, there might have been magnets involved.
In Driverâs Ed he walked blindly next to Chase, and hid behind Taft, like a toddler behind his mother.
He didnât look Remyâs way. He didnât talk to her. He didnât wave.
He was so practiced at ignoring his parents and staying silent next to them that it was relatively easy to ignore Remy and stay silent next to her. How will she know I want to do it again, he thought, if I ignore her?
He went on ignoring her. Actually,
ignore
was hardly the word. Except for Remy, Morgan was hardly even conscious. She was the world, and yet there he was focusing on ceiling cracks and linoleum splits.
Error, he thought, the word flickering in his mind the way it did on computer screens.
This was a game of chicken in which he was the chicken, and if he didnât get brave, heâd be a loser forever.
He didnât get brave. He just tightened in on himself, as if he were a fortress in need of defense.
He skipped Current Events. The stress of another class with Remy was too much.
J V games began at four-thirty.
Girls of Remyâs grade and playing level had usually given up by now. Remy didnât have good hands, or a feel for movement and strategy. She often wondered why she stuck with basketball. But sitting on the bench, toes pressed down hard inside her thick sneakers, she would yearn to play. You never knew whether the coach would put you in. His rotations were based on something Remy did not understand and which the parents said grumpily was called favoritism.
It was clear that Morgan Campbell was sorry he had ever gotten near her. By the light of day he must have realized Remy did not possess the perfection he required. Morgan was probably even now fantasizing about Alexandra.
Remy wanted to go home and cry; cry for hours; cry for years.
She was stuck with the basketball schedule and must play against Central. She made herself think of other things. Socks. Who yanked them up
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