Read Online Fly on the Wall by Trista Russell - Free Book Online

cruel joke.
    The classroom went from being alive with whispers, coughs, and the noise of crumpling paper to just two people breathing. Forty seconds into my detention, I already felt that running down a flight of stairs blindfolded would be better. I rested my head on the desk.
    Ms. Patrick said, “Theodore, this is not the time to catch up on your rest.”
    â€œI don’t see why not,” I mumbled.
    â€œI’ll tell you why.” She paused. “You’re keeping me from helping a friend of mine prepare for her party tonight. Therefore, I intend to make your life just as miserable as she will make mine.” She giggled a bit. “So, heads up.”
    â€œI’m not feeling well.”
    â€œYou’re a big, strong basketball player,” she said. “Please sit up.”
    I picked up my head and saw Ms. Patrick standing behind her desk, removing her navy blue jacket. She revealed a tight white blouse. The shirt was so close-fitting that her hard nipples were protruding through the material. Damn, she was moving her mouth, but I couldn’t comprehend.
    â€œHuh?” Here I was in the middle of my crisis with Trese, wishing that whatever insect Ms. Patrick was afraid of would land on her arm so that I could kill it and then intentionally rake my hand against her breasts. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
    â€œYou said that you were sick, so I asked if that was the reason you were late.” She stepped out of her shoes and started straightening her desk.
    â€œOh, yes.” Damn, I was in shock. I had never seen anything like that on a teacher. Now I could see exactly why Coach J. fell for her, but she was mean as hell, so I also saw why he had to step, too.
    Back when I first came to West Dade four years ago, Ms. Patrick didn’t look half as good. Now she was the teacher that all of the others were jealous of. Had she been fifteen years younger, she would be the embodiment of my dream girl. Or if I was fifteen years older, she’d be in danger of . . . Damn, she was facing me again. Her nipples were staring at me.
    She opened her mouth. “Mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa, mwa.” I sized her up, 36-28-40 . . . I was never wrong. “Are you listening to me?” she asked while staring at me weirdly.
    â€œI’m sorry. I’m just a little out of it.” I was.
    â€œIs it a headache?”
    â€œYes,” I lied and tore my eyes away from her chest.
    â€œWould you like something for it?”
    â€œYes.” I heard that breast milk does a body good. “What do you have?”
    â€œTylenol,” she spoke softly, “but it has to be our secret. I’m not supposed to supply students with drugs.”
    â€œWell, I won’t tell,” I whispered back, “if you promise to go easy on the homework.”
    She grinned. “No can do.” Then she added, “But I’ll let you off of the hook for your lack of participation in class today.”
    â€œSorry.” I frowned as I thought of my reason for being in detention. “It’s just been one of those days.”
    Ms. Patrick started walking in my direction. “Child, please. You don’t have a car note, rent, or a utility bill.” She smiled. “Until you have bills to pay, you don’t have anything to be worked up about.” She placed the red-and-yellow capsules in my hand and rested an unopened bottle of water on my desk. “Wanna trade places?”
    â€œThank you,” I said. “I’d rather try to pay your bills than go through what I’m going through.”
    â€œSounds serious.” Her facial expression showed concern. “Is everything all right?” She sat down at a desk next to me.
    I didn’t know what to say or if I should say anything. “I just got some bad news.”
    â€œOh, I’m so sorry.” Her hand flew up to her mouth like she expected me to say that someone died. What