Read Online Since You've Been Gone by Mary Jennifer Payne - Free Book Online Page A

should’ve known to stay away, full stop!”
    I turns out I wasn’t wrong about the lecture. Mr. Middleton is waiting at the front of the class again. This time Ms. Bryans stands beside him, mimicking his stern stance, both of them with their arms crossed firmly over their chests.
    As soon as we’ve taken our seats and are quietly reading novels or finishing homework assignments, Mr. Middleton strides over to the door and shuts it with a bang that is as sharp as a gunshot. Several students jump in their seats. I swear I see Ms. Bryans smile. Just for a second.
    â€œI need everything off your desks and your attention firmly up here,” Mr. Middleton begins. He waits until everyone is watching him.
    â€œI regret having to say this, but the situation with this homeroom has gone from bad to worse,” he says, shaking his head at us to reinforce the point. “As a class you are representing Windrush School very poorly. We already have a tenuous — to say the least — reputation in the borough. I’d expect all of you to behave with even more diligence because of that. Now, I’m not saying all of you were involved in the goings on of late, but, as a class, you are a team.”
    I dig my fingernails into the fleshy pad of my palm, distracting myself with the pain. Mr. Middleton is so wrong. Did he really forget what it’s like to be a teenager? We’re hardly a team. It’s more like survival of the fittest. Not a day goes by where someone isn’t bullied, whether online or in person.
    â€œWe strongly suspect,” Ms. Bryans says, “that the culprit took the money during the lunch hour yesterday. According to Ms. Thompson that money was — without question — still on the filing cabinet when she left the room.”
    Mr. Middleton nods. “However, Mr. Ravi did not see the tin the following period when he came to teach your first afternoon class.”
    â€œThat’s because he was reading a newspaper the whole time,” someone mutters.
    Ms. Bryans looks sharply in the direction of the comment. A tiny blue vein pulses above her left temple.
    â€œWhat we are saying,” she interjects, “is that it is almost certain that the money was taken during yesterday’s lunch. We also have several witnesses who saw a student from this homeroom coming out of the class during the lunch break without permission.”
    The words hit me like a sack of bricks. Suddenly the room is too bright and the buzzing sound of the lights fills my ears. Somebody saw me. For a moment I’m afraid I might vomit or faint, or possibly both. The school will phone home if I’m caught. They’ll want to talk to Mom. Then everything will fall apart. I’ll end up in care for sure.
    â€œNow, of course we’re not accusing anyone,” Mr. Middleton breaks in, shooting Ms. Bryans a warning look. “But I do expect to see that particular individual in my office by the end of the day, as it would be of benefit if the student volunteered his side of the story before being approached by me.”
    Mr. Middleton pauses for a moment. Some students shoot accusatory glances at each other.
    He clears his throat loudly. “Furthermore if this student chooses to do the right thing, it will most certainly help me make a decision as to whether or not this class will be attending the school disco next week.”
    I’m stunned. His side of the story. That’s Mr. Middleton just said. Wasn’t it? Maybe they don’t suspect me at all. Have I gotten away with stealing the charity fund? Or are they just trying to see if I have the guts to confess my crime?

CHAPTER 13
    W hen the bell rings at the end of the day, I feel triumphant. I can’t help but smile as I walk out the school doors. Mr. Middleton hasn’t spoken to me. In fact, he passed me in the hall without so much as a glance while I was gathering my books for history class. I don’t know