Read Online Lost in the Sun by Lisa Graff - Free Book Online

first one to talk. Finally she said, “Trent Zimmerman, I have lessons to plan. Why don’t you sit there and be silent until I decide you can go home?”
    So she planned, and I drew in my Book of Thoughts until she decided I could go home at 4:15, which was way too early. But I walked my bike instead of rode it, and I took four detours, too, so by the time I got home, it was 5:03. There was a note from Aaron on the table.
    Trent—
    I told you 4:50. We had to leave without you.
    â€”Aaron
    I crumpled the note into a ball and threw it in the garbage, and fixed myself some soup for dinner. Mom got home just after Aaron and Doug, and neither of them mentioned that I’d skipped dinner, and Dad didn’t call about it either. Mom did say, “Detention on the first day of school, huh?” with her eyebrows raised to the ceiling. And then when I told her that it was an accident, with Ms. Emerson’s stupid plant, she looked at me for a long time, studying my face like she was deciding whether or not to believe me. I guess believing me must’ve been easier, because finally she said, “You can always talk to me, Trent.” And I agreed with that, because, duh, I wasn’t about to say anything otherwise. And then, thank goodness, Mom turned on the game.
    The Dodgers beat the Padres, 5 to 4, so I guess the day wasn’t a total loss.

FIVE
    Am I going to like the kid I meet today?” That’s what Mr. Gorman asked me as I walked into the gym on Tuesday morning. He was standing in the doorway, holding his clipboard, like he was waiting for me or something.
    â€œI don’t know,” I told him. “Are you?”
    And I walked straight up to the bleachers—didn’t even bother to go to the locker room and change into my gym clothes—and I sat.
    â€œTrent?” he asked me. “You planning on participating today?”
    â€œCan’t,” I said. “I twisted my arm helping my mom move furniture last night.” And I made a big show of rubbing my arm, my right one. “I forgot my note. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
    Mr. Gorman frowned at me, but what else was he going to do? He couldn’t exactly pick me up and force me to play basketball. So he just sort of made an “
Mm-hmm
” noise in his throat, and checked something off on his clipboard. Probably the box that said I was a screw-up.
    I spent the whole period watching other kids play basketball, which is not nearly as fun as it sounds.
    I spent all of lunch in the bathroom again, which is even less fun than it sounds.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œAm I going to like the kid I meet today?” Mr. Gorman asked me on Wednesday. Still standing at the door. Still holding his clipboard.
    â€œI don’t know,” I told him. “Depends if you like kids who can’t play basketball because of their horrible colds.” I fake-sneezed. I think a little got on Mr. Gorman, which was an added bonus. “I’ll bring my note tomorrow!” I said as I made my way up the bleachers.
    Mr. Gorman made a check on his clipboard.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    By the time lunch on Wednesday rolled around, I was getting pretty sick of the bathroom. So, even though I really didn’t want to, I went to the cafeteria. Bought myself lunch. Sat down at a completely empty table in the corner.
    Guess who decided to sit down next to me.
    â€œTrent!”
    I tried to make myself look so large that I took up the whole table, but Fallon found room anyway.
    â€œHey,” she told me. “You’re here.”
    â€œYeah.” I held up my tuna sandwich to show her. “It’s lunch.”
    â€œBut you weren’t in the cafeteria yesterday,” she said. “Or Monday, either.”
    I just shrugged. No way I was going to tell her I’d been hanging out in the bathroom.
    â€œWell, I’m glad you’re here now.” She opened