Read Online The Dream Where the Losers Go by Beth Goobie - Free Book Online Page B

my boyfriend?” asked Skey, but she didn’t listen to Brenda’s reply. Her gaze had settled on Lick. Turned around in his desk, he was talking to some guys in the back row, his right knee jitterbugging as if it was trapped in the fifties. Feeling very intent, Skey walked over to his desk, sat down on it, and tapped his shoulder. Startled, Lick spun around so quickly that he lurched forward. Skey had to put out a hand to stop his face from implanting itself into a vital part of her anatomy.
    Guffaws broke out around them.
    “Hey, Lick, you want to make a meal?” someone in the back row howled.
    The shape of Lick’s face seemed to glow against her palm, blue-green, like pain. Without asking, Skey knew Lick could feel it too, this sudden strange connection. For a long suspended moment, the two of them sat surrounded by laughter, his face buried in her hand. Then the weird moment of deep meaning passed. Lick pulled back, his face radioactive, dancing his butt all over his seat. The poor guy didn’t know where to look. Everything he most wanted was eye-level, sitting on his desk, and he was bursting at the seams. This was exactly the situation Skey knew how to handle. Smiling, she touched his forearm. Lick let out a moan.
    “May I?” she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she pulled his left arm across her lap. Kids crowded in, snickering.
    “Hey, Lick, you want crisis counseling?” called someone.
    “The guy needs coaching, man,” said someone else.
    “Kiss her, Lick,” a guy hollered. “Pull her down and give her.”
    Using a fingertip, Skey traced the words she had written on Lick’s arm and watched his face burn. Every ten seconds, his body gave a convulsive jerk.
    “Hey,” she said.
    His green eyes flicked up to meet hers—the green of an alpine lake, all the inner life fled deep.
    “You bored yet, reading this?” she asked.
    Staring fixedly at the teacher’s desk, Lick shook his head.
    “Maybe I can make it more interesting,” she said. “Anyone got a pen?”
    An array of pens flashed toward her. Skey fingered one after another, rejecting them. “No,” she said, “I want red. Anyone got red?”
    “I’ve got a marker,” said San, appearing in the crowd.
    Skey flashed her a grin and took it. A silence fell on the kids crowded around Lick’s desk.
    “Now,” Skey said in delicate tones. “You promised me you would never wash this off, didn’t you?” She paused for dramatic effect, then added, “Didn’t you, Lick?”
    His body jerked again. “Relax, Lick,” she soothed. “This won’t hurt a bit.”
    Uncapping the marker, Skey placed it on his skin, about to draw something no one anywhere would ever live down. But under her touch, his arm began to shake. Glancing at him, she saw he was shaking all over, small quick shakes like a cold dog. Suddenly his bare forearm looked stripped, something hauled out of the safety of the dark into the vicious light of day, and she had trapped it, a prisoner for everyone to mock.
    Without speaking, Skey bent toward Lick’s face and touched the marker tip to the end of his nose. His eyes crossed as he looked at his nose, then they uncrossed and he glanced up at her face. She watched his fear retreat as he saw the smile on her face. Wary and silent, he waited.
    Slowly, Skey drew a huge pair of kissing lips that extended wrist to elbow over the words on his forearm. Then she capped the marker and handed it back to San. Girls giggled shrilly, guys hooted and began making predictions. Motionless, Lick sat staring at his forearm, which continued to rest on Skey’s lap. Their eyes met.
    “Promise?” he asked.
    Skey handed back his arm. “Just don’t wash it,” she said.
    “Never,” he vowed. A tiny grin convulsed his mouth.

C HAPTER S IX
    W HEN J IGGER TOUCHED HER , she found out what skin meant. Every time he touched her, it meant something different. Jigger touched her, and she found new places deep within that came swimming to her skin to be touched