Read Online The Downside of Being Charlie by Jenny Torres Sanchez - Free Book Online Page B

“Mark said it’s a haunted hayride.” She opens her eyes wide with excitement.
    Mark? My soaring heart plummets to my feet, like a duck just shot down by some camouflaged jerk and his rifle. Of course Mark would be coming. Mark whose car is parked outside her house almost every day. Mark who walks with her to class. Mark who so obviously wants her, too. And did she say haunted hayride? As in Ol’ Gilly’s haunted hayride? As in the haunted hayride I swore I’d never participate in again no matter what? I try to recover and not reveal my disappointment, that I actually thought she was asking me out.
    I stand there, wondering how the hell I can back out of this now since I have no intention or desire of seeing Mark and Charlotte all chummy chummy together for an enchanted evening. Then out of nowhere, like some kind of devilish imp with supernatural powers, Mark appears.
    â€œHey, Char-Char, what’s up?” He smiles and then barely nods in my direction. “Chunks,” he adds. Did he just call her Char-Char? I’m going to puke. My face heats up and I cringe at being called Chunks in front of Char-Char.
    â€œHey! I was just telling Charlie about the Halloween Hayride. He’s coming, too.”
    â€œReally?” Mark asks. Charlotte nods, and I shrug my shoulders, pretending not to notice the edge in his voice.
    â€œYep. Who did you ask?” she says.
    Mark stands there for a minute just staring at her,
then at me, then finally says, “Diana.”
    â€œGreat! She’s supersweet,” Charlotte says. “Do you know Diana?” she asks looking back at me.
    â€œNo.” I study Mark who is studying me like I have three heads and someone just told him I’m the king of Spain.
    â€œYou’ll like her, she’s supernice,” Charlotte says.
    Wait . . . was I getting set up with Diana? Was she some freshman dweeb or something? Was this a joke?
    Ahmed comes strutting down the hall a minute later. “Dude, stay away from your locker,” he says, fanning the air in front of him. “Smells like ass. I’m not kidding.”
    â€œWhat?” I ask, wondering why of all times, Ahmed has to approach me with a comment like this right now.
    â€œMust be stink bombs, a whole shit load of them, in your locker. It’s the worst!” he says, grimacing. “I can still smell it.”
    â€œOh yeah, sorry, Chunks.” Mark laughs. I hate the sound of Mark’s laughter. It’s one of those laughs that’s way too loud and forced, like he’s having the time of his life, and calls way too much attention to stupid things that don’t merit so much attention. My ears pulse.
    â€œOh, gross,” Charlotte whispers with a disgusted look on her face.
    â€œMy backpack’s in there,” I tell them. “And Tanya’s not even here today.”
    â€œOh, really?” Mark says. “No way!” He feigns disappointment and then looks directly at me and says, “That sucks.”
    I meet his glare but say nothing.
    It figures. It had been too quiet. In the past month,
there had only been a few run-by crumpled papers chucked at Tanya’s head and a couple of crude notes and drawings slipped through the locker vents that I’d thrown out before she found them. I’d been waiting for something bigger (though I’m not sure how you top feces), and here, at last, were the beginnings of Mark’s revived machinations. Charlotte gives Mark an annoyed look.
    â€œSorry,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, “really, I had no idea, Chunks. But a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”
    Charlotte rolls her eyes. Ahmed looks thoroughly confused.
    â€œWhatever, no big deal,” I mutter, wondering how bad it can really be.
    â€œOkay, so we’re going to meet here at school on Thursday around eight. But I’ll see you before then . . . ,” Charlotte says.
    â€œYeah, right,