Read Online Farsighted (Farsighted Series) by Emlyn Chand - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emlyn Chand
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the doors, and I get the heck out of there.
***
I survive my first few classes without incident. Seems the other students would rather keep their distance from me, now that I appear violent and crazy. I guess that’s one good side effect of my haunting hallucinations—makes for a better high school experience, at least when I’m not crying and yelling in the middle of the crowded cafeteria.
Simmi catches up with me at lunch. She slides onto the bench across from me at our table on the cafeteria periphery. “Hi,” she chirps, acting completely normal and happy. Not a trace of awkwardness regarding yesterday’s incident.
“Hi,” I reply with a big smile.
“Hey, Alex,” she says, “have you met Shapri yet? I invited her to eat with us today.”
“Oh, yeah. Hi, Shapri,” I say, taking a bite of my bologna and mustard sandwich.
“Hi,” Shapri says.
“She’s in our chem class, too. She helped me with the lab yesterday, since you weren’t here. There’s an odd number in the class anyway, so Dr. Brown says we can work in a group of three, if that’s all right with you,” Simmi adds.
“Yeah, yeah. Great.” My mouth is still full of crust-less Wonder Bread and mushed-up meat byproducts. I swallow and attempt to come up with more thoughtful conversational insights for my companions. Instead I ask, “How was the lab yesterday? Sorry to have missed it.”
“Oh, super easy,” Shapri says, hijacking the conversation. “We finished way before the end of the period, so we just sat around and chatted. Simmi and I’ve got a lot in common.” Both girls giggle.
I still don’t know what I think of Shapri. If Simmi likes her, does that mean she’s all right? Or is Shapri trying to steal my new best friend away from me? The hairs on the back of my neck bristle like an angry wolf’s hackles. I hope the girls don’t notice.
“We’re both new in town, and like science better than the arts, and we both love spicy food, and…” Shapri says the first part quickly and then trails off. She and Simmi giggle again.
Oh, jeez. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to handle hanging out with two constantly giggling girls. Simmi’s not like this, not when Shapri isn’t around. She’s quiet, reserved, thoughtful. “Well, that’s great,” I say, trying to sound enthused. “What else did I miss, besides class? Any interesting gossip?”
“Nah, same old boring suburban routine. We always had so much more going on in New Orleans,” Shapri says with a wistful sigh. She takes a soggy bite of something using her school-issued spork—I can’t smell any real foods at all, just paprika and cumin. Shapri’s food doesn’t seem so different from Simmi’s.
“In Delhi, too, but the kids were nicer to each other. No Brady-type person was around to proclaim a social pecking order or determine who’s worthy of kindness and who isn’t,” Simmi says, twisting the cap off a bottle of a delicious-smelling grape juice.
I smile inwardly. Simmi gets me. I decide not to say anything more on the topic of Brady, since there’s no way I can without coming off like a loser.
“Oh, in New Orleans, there were fights! This one time, a kid had to go to the hospital. So scary! My dad says to keep to yourself so as not to be an instigator,” Shapri says soberly before laughing. “I hope the two of you aren’t instigators. I don’t need any trouble.”
This comment’s got to be a jab at me, since everyone thinks I was the one who started the fight with Brady last week “I don’t need any trouble either,” I bark out like a Doberman. Go ahead, try to invade my yard.
Silence falls, as if I’ve somehow said something wrong, even though Shapri said almost the exact same thing. Simmi laughs good-naturedly. “So we all agree we don’t need any trouble? Sounds like a deal.”
Shapri sniffs and crumbles her lunch bag into a ball. “Hey, what were you doing back at my mom’s shop again yesterday? I thought the place
***
I survive my first few classes without incident. Seems the other students would rather keep their distance from me, now that I appear violent and crazy. I guess that’s one good side effect of my haunting hallucinations—makes for a better high school experience, at least when I’m not crying and yelling in the middle of the crowded cafeteria.
Simmi catches up with me at lunch. She slides onto the bench across from me at our table on the cafeteria periphery. “Hi,” she chirps, acting completely normal and happy. Not a trace of awkwardness regarding yesterday’s incident.
“Hi,” I reply with a big smile.
“Hey, Alex,” she says, “have you met Shapri yet? I invited her to eat with us today.”
“Oh, yeah. Hi, Shapri,” I say, taking a bite of my bologna and mustard sandwich.
“Hi,” Shapri says.
“She’s in our chem class, too. She helped me with the lab yesterday, since you weren’t here. There’s an odd number in the class anyway, so Dr. Brown says we can work in a group of three, if that’s all right with you,” Simmi adds.
“Yeah, yeah. Great.” My mouth is still full of crust-less Wonder Bread and mushed-up meat byproducts. I swallow and attempt to come up with more thoughtful conversational insights for my companions. Instead I ask, “How was the lab yesterday? Sorry to have missed it.”
“Oh, super easy,” Shapri says, hijacking the conversation. “We finished way before the end of the period, so we just sat around and chatted. Simmi and I’ve got a lot in common.” Both girls giggle.
I still don’t know what I think of Shapri. If Simmi likes her, does that mean she’s all right? Or is Shapri trying to steal my new best friend away from me? The hairs on the back of my neck bristle like an angry wolf’s hackles. I hope the girls don’t notice.
“We’re both new in town, and like science better than the arts, and we both love spicy food, and…” Shapri says the first part quickly and then trails off. She and Simmi giggle again.
Oh, jeez. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to handle hanging out with two constantly giggling girls. Simmi’s not like this, not when Shapri isn’t around. She’s quiet, reserved, thoughtful. “Well, that’s great,” I say, trying to sound enthused. “What else did I miss, besides class? Any interesting gossip?”
“Nah, same old boring suburban routine. We always had so much more going on in New Orleans,” Shapri says with a wistful sigh. She takes a soggy bite of something using her school-issued spork—I can’t smell any real foods at all, just paprika and cumin. Shapri’s food doesn’t seem so different from Simmi’s.
“In Delhi, too, but the kids were nicer to each other. No Brady-type person was around to proclaim a social pecking order or determine who’s worthy of kindness and who isn’t,” Simmi says, twisting the cap off a bottle of a delicious-smelling grape juice.
I smile inwardly. Simmi gets me. I decide not to say anything more on the topic of Brady, since there’s no way I can without coming off like a loser.
“Oh, in New Orleans, there were fights! This one time, a kid had to go to the hospital. So scary! My dad says to keep to yourself so as not to be an instigator,” Shapri says soberly before laughing. “I hope the two of you aren’t instigators. I don’t need any trouble.”
This comment’s got to be a jab at me, since everyone thinks I was the one who started the fight with Brady last week “I don’t need any trouble either,” I bark out like a Doberman. Go ahead, try to invade my yard.
Silence falls, as if I’ve somehow said something wrong, even though Shapri said almost the exact same thing. Simmi laughs good-naturedly. “So we all agree we don’t need any trouble? Sounds like a deal.”
Shapri sniffs and crumbles her lunch bag into a ball. “Hey, what were you doing back at my mom’s shop again yesterday? I thought the place
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