Read Online Rumble by Ellen Hopkins - Free Book Online

single
    word from her, I’m wrecked. I fake
    my way through English and calculus,
    concentration impossible. I don’t see
    her in the hallways, wonder if she’s even
    here, until the lunch bell rings. I find
    her in the cafeteria, surrounded by
    her posse of believers, who are no doubt
    discussing the relative merits of their youth
    minister. When I gesture for her to join
    me, I’m terrified she’ll shake her head.
    Instead, she says something to her friends,
    grabs her book— The Perks of Being
    a Wallflower , I can tell by the cover—
    and comes over without hesitation. She tilts
    her chin, reaching for a kiss. Relief upwells.
    I whisper in her ear, “Thank you,” encircle
    her with one arm, and acknowledge
    her gift of forgiveness. This is the kiss
    I wanted two days ago. The one that makes
    everyone in this chili-stinking room understand
    that Hayden and I are in love. Unfortunately,
    it draws the attention of Ms. Hannity,
who happens to be passing by. Break it
up, Mistah Turnah. This isn’t HBO.
    “Sorry. Couldn’t help myself. As you
    know, self-control isn’t my forte.”
Yes, well, work on that. Some things
are best done in private. That is all.

Arm Still Firmly Wrapped
    Around Hayden’s waist, I steer her
    to a more private place—a table way
    in the back of the room. As we pass
    the deli cart, I grab a ham sandwich.
    “Want something?” Who says chivalry
    is dead? But Hayden shakes her head.
I’m eliminating carbs for a while.
    Don’t be ridiculous. That’s what
    I really want to say. Instead, I go
    with a much more generic “Why?”
Prom’s coming up. I want to fit
in the dress I bought. We are going?
    What kind of an idiot boyfriend
    would say no, even if he quite
    reasonably thought prom was nothing
    but a money-sucking nightmare?
    “Of course. Can’t wait.” We sit
    and Hayden watches me unwrap
    my approximation of a delicious meal.
    Rather than have her stare as I scarf
    it down, I direct her attention back
    toward the Bible-thumpers’ table,
    where Jocelyn and friends seem
    to be in deep discussion. “What’s up
    with them? Have they discovered
    a lost gnostic gospel or something?”
    She smiles.
    That’s good.
    I think.
In the last five minutes? Don’t think
so. No, they’re planning our spring
break retreat. We’re staying at a hostel. . . .
    Spring break.
    Retreat.
    Hostel.
    And . . .
    “Don’t tell me. Judah is going.”
    Suddenly my lunch is flavorless.
Well, of course. It was his idea.
A week of meditation, communion,
and spiritual awakening. Don’t
look at me like that, Matt.

Don’t Look at Her
    Don’t say a damn thing. Spring break
    is still weeks away. Who knows what
    might happen by then? I bite into
    my cardboard sandwich, concentrate
    on the tabletop. “I can’t give you a ride
    home today. I have to see my therapist.”
    Mom made the appointment, insisted
    I show up, No matter what, no excuses.
    I could blow it off anyway, except
    it might do me good to talk about this
    crap with Hayden. I sure as hell
    can’t talk to her about it. She’s dug in.
That’s okay. I can ride with Joce.
What about the game tonight?
    I’ve only gone to a couple, and there
    are only a few weeks left until
    the play-offs. I shrug. “If you’re going
    I guess I will, too.” Better to kiss a little
    butt than reevaluate our relationship.
    “Will you wear that green sweater?”

My Therapist’s Lair
    Is in a modern building with a big,
    sunny atrium smack in the middle,
    circled by brightly painted offices,
    all designed to fool patients into
    believing things are better than they
    seem. But let’s face it. Body-sick
    or brain-sick, we’re all here because
    it pretty much sucks being us.
    I arrive five minutes late, still have
    to wait another ten because I’m unlucky
    enough to have the only therapist
    on earth who’s willing to go fifteen
    minutes over, to be absolutely certain
    her clients will make it through
    the week without overdosing or parking
    on the