Read Online My Side by Norah McClintock - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Norah McClintock
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in your assignments on time. Get your permission slips and your report cards signed on time.
Rule number two is always knock.
I donât knock, which is why his eyes are squinty behind the windows of his glasses. At first Iâm sure heâs going to say something sarcastic, the way he always does when someone is late or misbehaving. He does this because he knows that if thereâs one thing every teenager on the planet is afraid of, itâs being made fun of. Being made to look and feel ridiculous. Having people laugh at himâor her.
But today he doesnât whip off a sarcastic remark. Instead, his eyes register the same surprise as Mr. Michaudâs.
âOh,â he says. âItâs you, Addie.â He recovers enough to add, âItâs good to have you back.â I canât tell if he means it.
I take a seatâmy seat, which is empty, as if it has been waiting for me all this time. The rasping sound as I pull out the chair fills the deep silence of the classroom.
I sit.
Mr. Grayson clears his throat and points to the board, where he has written some notes. I stare at them, but I donât copy them down. I donât volunteer any answers either. I donât even pretend to listen. It doesnât matter. Mr. Grayson goes on as if Iâm not there.
I know without looking that kids are stealing glances at me. I know that one of those people is Neely. Sheâs sitting where she has been since the beginning of the school year, over by the window. I turn and catch her sneaking a look at me. Her pale face turns crimson, and she ducks her head.
I glance at the person beside her. Itâs Kayla. She looks me in the eye, as if daring me to do anything to her. I meet her gaze and hold it, unblinking, until she finally looks away. When she does, I feel myself expand, as if Iâve devoured her. This is why Iâm here. This is exactly the feeling I have been imagining.
Emboldened, I turn my attention to my next victim. John. His head is down, but I see him trying to peek at me out of the corner of his eye. It turns out heâs a bigger coward than either of the girls. He doesnât look up, even though I can tell by the redness of his ears that he knows Iâm watching him. He canâtâor wonâtâacknowledge me.
Finally the bell rings. My heart begins to race. My neck tenses, then my shoulders, in what Dr. Zorbas calls preparation for fight or flight. My breath quickens. I try to slow it down by counting as I breatheâin, two, three, out, two, three. Meanwhile, all around me, kids are flooding out of the classroom. Neely almost knocks some of them over in her dash for the door. John isnât far behind her.
I take my time.
I walk slowly out of the classroom and down the hall. I know exactly where I am going to find her.
I donât want to talk to her, but I have to. At least, I think I do, right up until I catch sight of her at her locker. Her locker door is open, and she is half-hidden by it. I see flashes of her hair, not as blond now as it was two months ago. I see some girls looking at herâShayna and Kayla and Jen. Theyâre the girls Neely ogled all last year. Theyâre the ones she was determined to get to know. The ones she was so desperate to hang out with. Theyâre looking at her now, but theyâre not standing with her or clustered around her for support. Jen spots me and says something, her mouth half-hidden behind her hand. The other two nod. But they donât say anything to Neely. I wonder why.
I wait. Neely scurried out of class like a mouse desperate to get to its hole before the cat could trap her. Sheâs doing her best to make herself invisible. Does she know Iâm standing here? Are the hairs on the back of her neck standing up? Does she have that prickly feeling you get when you think someone is staring at you? Will she close her locker door and meet my eyes?
If she does, then what?
I wait. I
Rule number two is always knock.
I donât knock, which is why his eyes are squinty behind the windows of his glasses. At first Iâm sure heâs going to say something sarcastic, the way he always does when someone is late or misbehaving. He does this because he knows that if thereâs one thing every teenager on the planet is afraid of, itâs being made fun of. Being made to look and feel ridiculous. Having people laugh at himâor her.
But today he doesnât whip off a sarcastic remark. Instead, his eyes register the same surprise as Mr. Michaudâs.
âOh,â he says. âItâs you, Addie.â He recovers enough to add, âItâs good to have you back.â I canât tell if he means it.
I take a seatâmy seat, which is empty, as if it has been waiting for me all this time. The rasping sound as I pull out the chair fills the deep silence of the classroom.
I sit.
Mr. Grayson clears his throat and points to the board, where he has written some notes. I stare at them, but I donât copy them down. I donât volunteer any answers either. I donât even pretend to listen. It doesnât matter. Mr. Grayson goes on as if Iâm not there.
I know without looking that kids are stealing glances at me. I know that one of those people is Neely. Sheâs sitting where she has been since the beginning of the school year, over by the window. I turn and catch her sneaking a look at me. Her pale face turns crimson, and she ducks her head.
I glance at the person beside her. Itâs Kayla. She looks me in the eye, as if daring me to do anything to her. I meet her gaze and hold it, unblinking, until she finally looks away. When she does, I feel myself expand, as if Iâve devoured her. This is why Iâm here. This is exactly the feeling I have been imagining.
Emboldened, I turn my attention to my next victim. John. His head is down, but I see him trying to peek at me out of the corner of his eye. It turns out heâs a bigger coward than either of the girls. He doesnât look up, even though I can tell by the redness of his ears that he knows Iâm watching him. He canâtâor wonâtâacknowledge me.
Finally the bell rings. My heart begins to race. My neck tenses, then my shoulders, in what Dr. Zorbas calls preparation for fight or flight. My breath quickens. I try to slow it down by counting as I breatheâin, two, three, out, two, three. Meanwhile, all around me, kids are flooding out of the classroom. Neely almost knocks some of them over in her dash for the door. John isnât far behind her.
I take my time.
I walk slowly out of the classroom and down the hall. I know exactly where I am going to find her.
I donât want to talk to her, but I have to. At least, I think I do, right up until I catch sight of her at her locker. Her locker door is open, and she is half-hidden by it. I see flashes of her hair, not as blond now as it was two months ago. I see some girls looking at herâShayna and Kayla and Jen. Theyâre the girls Neely ogled all last year. Theyâre the ones she was determined to get to know. The ones she was so desperate to hang out with. Theyâre looking at her now, but theyâre not standing with her or clustered around her for support. Jen spots me and says something, her mouth half-hidden behind her hand. The other two nod. But they donât say anything to Neely. I wonder why.
I wait. Neely scurried out of class like a mouse desperate to get to its hole before the cat could trap her. Sheâs doing her best to make herself invisible. Does she know Iâm standing here? Are the hairs on the back of her neck standing up? Does she have that prickly feeling you get when you think someone is staring at you? Will she close her locker door and meet my eyes?
If she does, then what?
I wait. I
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