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

thought we’d just meet there.”
    â€œNaw, I can pick you up so that later—”
    She interrupted him and shook her head. “Doran, I still have a student here. Let’s talk about this in about an hour.”
    â€œOh, okay.” He finally caught on. “No problem.”
    â€œAll right.” She walked him to the door. “I’ll see you later.”
    When the mathematician was out of sight, I wasted no time teasing her. “Ms. Patrick has a boyfriend, huh?”
    â€œMind your business.” She blushed. “Mr. Bess is my workout partner.”
    â€œIt don’t sound like y’all gonna be working out tonight,” I joked. “What’s that all about?”
    She smiled. “If I call you Theo and let you leave right now instead of in forty-five minutes, will you not mention this to anyone?”
    â€œI can see where that is a possibility.” I was willing to negotiate.
    â€œYou’re dismissed, Theo.”
    â€œThank you.” I gathered my things.
    â€œHave a great weekend.”
    â€œI heard the math teacher plottin’,” I teased, “so don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
    â€œYou are too silly, Theo.” She smacked me lightly on the arm. “Get out of here.”
    I smiled all the way out the door then ran downstairs and into the locker room. I was only twenty minutes late to practice, but to Coach J. that was just like not showing up. I pulled off my Rocawear gear and with no hesitation jumped into my gym clothes and hit the hardwood floor with my signature yell.
    â€œWhat time is it, W. D.?” Normally my teammates would scream, “Game time,” but Coach J. was still going over yesterday’s practice. The look he gave me said that I would probably have twenty-five more pushups and crunches than the rest of the team, but the added exercise was all right with me. I needed to do something with my bottled up aggression.
    I joined the team and listened to Coach, but my mind just wouldn’t process anything he said. Trese’s news was like a ghost. It was haunting me, and this was just phase one. She wasn’t going to make things easy for me. I could already imagine her with a big stomach at the home games, holding up stupid signs or booing me while I was at the free-throw line. I had seen it done to other players by baby mommas and ex-girlfriends. “Damn it,” I said to myself.
    â€œAll right, boys,” Coach yelled. “Let’s get on the ball.” He read from his clipboard. “Twenty-five sit-ups, pushups, crunches, and lunges.” He flipped the page. “And let me get four suicides before we go into lay-up drill.” He blew his whistle and we all knew what to do.
    I tried to walk by him, but he grabbed my elbow. “Where you been?”
    â€œI had to stay late with Ms. Patrick.”
    With the mention of her name, his eyes lit up, but he played it off well. He had to regret not being with her now. If he didn’t, then that meant that he had someone better, and I didn’t see how that was possible. “Why did you get a detention?”
    â€œI was late.” I answered his next question before he even asked. “A li’l diarrhea.” I whispered the lie.
    â€œAh, man.” He jokingly stepped away from me. “All right, Shitty Gonzalez, don’t let anything loose when you doing them sit-ups.”
    â€œI’ll try.” I started walking away. “You got some extra trunks just in case?”
    â€œHell Naw.” He laughed. “You better tighten them ass muscles.”
    I ran away, screaming, “What time is it, W.D.?”
    â€œGame time.”
    â€œMan, I can’t hear y’all.”
    â€œGame time!”
    â€œWhat time?”
    â€œGame time!” We all hit the floor and started counting off our crunches. “One, two, three, four, five . . .” Somewhere around the ninth crunch, I