Read Online Dull Boy by Sarah Cross - Free Book Online Page B

typical antisocial girl. With, uh, anger issues. I guess.
    The field is even more of a mess than it was before. Smears of blood stain the dirt, and the faint smell of Bonecrusher sweat sours the air. Darla’s standing where first base should be, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the other, nervous-tick style. I wish she would run.
    Catherine turns her attention to me at last. “Were you just gonna let those freaks kill you?”
    “I’m a pacifist,” I say, and cough.
    “More like a masochist. Even Gandhi would’ve kicked those guys in the nuts.”
    I pause a moment to picture Gandhi delivering a swift kick to Big Dawg’s balls. “It was no big deal,” I say. “But, uh, thanks for saving me.”
    “Don’t expect it to happen again. You’re lucky I was hanging around.”
    “Hey, yeah.” I smile, as I realize: “You waited for me. You knew this was gonna go down, so . . .”
    She spits on the ground. “Like hell! I had detention.”
    “HA!” Darla claps her hands over her mouth, but it’s too late: the laugh is out. Catherine pivots, nails upturned in a bring-it gesture.
    “Something funny, stalker?”
    “N-no! Just . . . the idea of you actually showing up for detention . . .”
    “Yeah, I’m sure you know a lot about me. Like what? Where I live? Where I work? Where I’m gonna bury you after I rip your throat out? !”
    I grab Catherine around the waist as she lunges for Darla, claws primed for homicide.
    “Move!” I shout. “Now!”
    Darla spins on her heel and runs, backpack clanking like nobody’s business.
    “Get your hands off me!” Catherine’s thrashing around so fiercely she’s breaking a sweat. “Let go of me or I’ll—”
    “I don’t want to fight with you. I’m making sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”
    This is going to be bad. This is going to be so bad . Unless she wears herself out and is too tired to slay me, those nails will be slicing through my throat the second I let go.
    “You need to calm down,” I say. “Or get a scratching post or something. Darla isn’t—”
    BAM!
    That was the wrong thing to say.
    The back of her skull is rock hard. Ow.
    “She wants to be friends with you but she doesn’t know how.”
    “I don’t need friends,” Catherine growls. “And I’m not looking for some stupid support group .”
    “You’ve already got one, whether you like it or not.” I take a deep breath, prepare to get skull-slammed in the nose. “Me.”
    She laughs. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
    “You have to ask?” I let her go; spring out of the way in case she comes after me. “We, uh . . .” I try to remember how Cherchette put it. “We share a special bond.”
    “Tell me you did not just feed me that line.”
    “It’s not a line—it’s true. We both have powers!”
    All my frustration, my hope, spills out in that moment. I feel like I just handed over my future and now I have to wait to see what she’ll do with it.
    I count my heartbeats. They’re thudding in my head like a metronome, marking the split seconds she spends staring at me, her expression wide-open and exposed. Scared.
    And then it’s gone. Catherine closes up. Turns on her hate face.
    “Powers,” she says. “Wow. You really are retarded.”
    Great. I finally tell someone the truth about me, and she acts like I’m insane.
    “Don’t be like that. We can—I mean, I need someone to talk to about this. You do, too, right?” I’m grasping, following her as she steps back, claws at the ready. She’s not interested—I’m only making it worse. But I can’t let go.
    I saw it in her face. I saw it.
    “Why would I want to talk to a delusional freak?” She practically spits the last word. Steps around a tangled clump of branches like a dancer navigating a stage. Doesn’t even look at them.
    “Because.” I take a deep breath. “You know I’m not delusional. And maybe you’re this badass tough girl, but I doubt you have all the answers. Do you even know why