Read Online Gracie Faltrain Gets it Right (Finally) by Cath Crowley - Free Book Online

on.’ Flemming makes it a policy to be away whenever Mrs Young schedules an English assessment.
    â€˜She’ll make you do it Wednesday.’
    â€˜Yeah, but I’ll do it in the library without her stupid face staring at me. Meet you at the oval after school tomorrow?’ he asks, and runs off before I’ve answered.
    I look up and see Dan Woodbury leaning on his sky-blue station wagon. It’s a Valiant Sahara, the type my dad sees and says, ‘Ah, the good old days.’ Dan’s like a fridge, though. Everything he touches turns cool.
    â€˜I’m waiting for Kally and Annabelle,’ he says. ‘Kick me the ball.’ I like that Dan knows I don’t want to talk about Martin. I like that he doesn’t make stupid jokes. He concentrates on the ball, his hair half falling over his eyes, his arms out for balance. It’s all going well until I start thinking.
    Is he not looking because he’s embarrassed for me? I know he read the emails because he replied to them. What I need to do is put a little self-esteem back in the Gracie Faltrain bank this afternoon. Soccer is what I’m good at. I look cool when I play. I look hot at the same time, whichisn’t easy to do. I juggle the ball. He doesn’t look up. I flick from my left to right foot. Still no eye action. I knee the ball up and head it. Hard. I don’t even see Mrs Young until it’s too late. Perfect. Now he looks.
    â€˜Am I an idiot?’ I say to Principal Yoosta as the school nurse applies an ice-pack. Okay. Let me rephrase that: would I be an idiot on purpose? ‘There’s no way I’d hit my English teacher in the face with a ball deliberately. Especially when she’s giving me a test tomorrow.’
    He takes a breath to stay calm. ‘Wait here while I check on Mrs Young.’
    â€˜We need to work on a better defence while he’s gone,’ Dan says. ‘You seem to be saying you wouldn’t hit your English teacher on purpose, but you would hit her by accident if there wasn’t a test tomorrow. If I was your lawyer, I’d be pushing for you to remain silent.’
    â€˜How much trouble do you think I’m in?’
    â€˜We’re in,’ he says. ‘I was playing, too.’ He leans against the fence. Dan never looks worried, not now, not on the soccer field. He has one of those cool, sexy, detached stares. When I stare people think I’m a stalker.
    Jane walks over while we’re waiting for news.
    â€˜What are you still doing here?’ I ask.
    â€˜Corelli’s driving me home. So I missed the first half but I’m guessing Mrs Young didn’t head the ball home to the backdrop of a Mexican Wave?’
    â€˜It was an accident. Please, don’t let her nose be broken. I’ll fail tomorrow for sure.’
    â€˜Like I said, don’t go with that line of defence when we’requestioned. What’s the essay on, by the way?’ Dan asks.
    â€˜I have absolutely no idea.’
    He laughs, under his breath at first. ‘It’s not funny,’ I say, but he laughs even more. It turns into the silent rocking laughter that’s catching. In the face of criminal charges and the aftermath of World Wide Web humiliation, I want to laugh so hard my sides ache holding it in.
    â€˜Get a grip, Faltrain,’ Jane says. ‘Yoosta will think you’re a sociopath.’
    â€˜It’s not broken,’ the nurse calls out.
    Dan and I break into loud, hysterical laugher. It’s a form of relief. But Jane’s right. Yoosta does think I’m a sociopath. ‘My office,’ he says. ‘Now. Ms Faltrain, I believe you can show your friend the way.’
    â€˜Yes, Mr Yoosta.’ I believe I’ve been there before.
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ I say to Dan, on the way to the office. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say as the secretary asks his name, school and home phone number.
    â€˜Will you stop saying that?