Read Online Rebel, Bully, Geek, Pariah by Erin Jade Lange - Free Book Online Page B

one sounded familiar for some reason. By the looks of him, there was every chance his name was written on bathroom walls and whispered between giggles around school.
    I felt a pleasant little rush of relief that York had apparently been waiting for this awkward kid and not one of the Barbies. That’s what everyone called Andi and Georgia and their clique—the Freshman Barbies. Although, come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Andi with the other Barbies for a few weeks.
    â€œThe combination’s not working,” York grunted, pounding the locker once with his fist.
    The skinny one huffed and held up his phone. “That’s your nine-one-one? I thought something was wrong.”
    â€œSomething
is
wrong. You gave me a bunk combo.”
    â€œNo, you just have to be smarter than the lock.”
    The smaller boy twisted the dial as York grew impatient. “See, that’s why I was confused. There are only three numbers, but you spin it four times.”
    â€œI have to.”
    â€œYou don’t have to. You’re just a freak.”
    â€œAnd you’re a moron.”
    York shoved him roughly to the side in response.
    Boys.
    â€œWhat is all this garbage?” York dug in the bottom of the locker like a dog, sending out a spray of loose papers and gum wrappers.
    â€œIt’s called homework. You should try it sometime.”
    â€œYou should try being human sometime.”
    I stifled a laugh.
    â€œWhy can’t you just use your own locker?” the freckled kid complained.
    York finally stood up, a textbook clutched in his hand. “I don’t want to see . . . anyone.”
    â€œJust because you’re not on the team anymore doesn’t mean—”
    The textbook hit the floor with a bang that echoed down the hall.
    â€œShut up about it!” York’s hands pulled at the sides of his hair. “You’re lucky I’m using your locker—that I’m even willing to be seen with you.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to—”
    â€œYou’re embarrassing!”
    I tugged my ski cap back down low over my forehead and crumpled up the remains of my lunch, my appetite gone.
    â€œGot it,” the small boy said in an even smaller voice.
    York softened almost immediately, stammering out, “Look, I didn’t mean— It’s not you I’m—”
    But the other boy was already slamming his locker shut and rushing away down the hall. I thought I saw him brush something from his cheek as he ran, but I couldn’t be sure. Across from me, York looked like he might run after the younger boy—one arm was stretched out, and his mouth was open as if to shout—but after a second he only turned back to the locker and leaned his head against its smooth surface.
    He stood that way for a full three seconds before straightening up and punching the locker hard with his fist, leaving a slight dent. Then he scooped up his textbook and jogged off toward the cafeteria.
    I watched him go, feeling a squeeze of disappointment in my chest. Of course he couldn’t be hot and nice at the same time. That was just too much to ask of River City boys.
    I pushed my squashed lunch bag to the side and tugged my algebra binder out of my backpack. Beneath the binder’s plastic cover was a patchwork of old photos Mama had dug out of a box in Grandma’s attic after she died: Mama in front of the St. Louis arch, Mama playing her violin on an outdoor stage surrounded by red rocks, Mama posing with roadies on top of a skyscraper in New York, Mama splashing through the waves on a beach who-knows-where.
    Inside the locker behind me I’d created a similar collage, but with much more exotic locations. I was going to travel as much as Mama had, and then some. I was going to get as far away from River City as I could, and when I got there, I was going to tear off my invisibility cloak and let people see me. Until then, I just had to keep