Read Online Watch Me Disappear by Diane Vanaskie Mulligan - Free Book Online
Authors: Diane Vanaskie Mulligan
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social sense, but her outgoing nature is working in our favor, so I decide to just go with it.
Our little group—Missy, me, Wes and his three pals—move back to one of the tables far from the speakers so we can talk. Mathletes though they are, they are knowledgeable sources of school gossip. It doesn’t take long before I am totally engrossed in the dirt they’re dishing. Apparently Maura’s friend Katherine, the pageant queen, was hospitalized for bulimia in ninth grade. No one seems very sympathetic about that, and behind her back she is still called “Retch.” The boys insist she deserves no sympathy because she considers everyone to be ten steps beneath her, something I have experienced firsthand. I am disappointed they don’t have much dirt on Maura, but they give us little tidbits about almost everyone else who walks by our table.
“That kid,” Wes says, nodding his head toward a tall, thin, brown haired kid who is buying a cookie at the bake sale table, “He’s the one to beat.”
“To beat?” I ask.
“Yeah, he’s got the highest average in the senior class. He’s won the high average award the past three years, so unless someone can knock him down this year, he’ll be valedictorian.”
“Him?” I ask. The kid in question looks like some kind of wide-eyed farm boy, not like a valedictorian. He is tan and athletic-looking, but there is nothing cocky in his walk or his expression. If I had to guess just based on appearances, I would say he is probably of average intelligence at best but great with big animals like cows and horses. It is hard to picture him acing a calculus exam.
“Yep. His name is Hunter Groves. Valedictorian and star of the soccer team.”
“No kidding,” I say.
“He’s a nice kid,” Wes adds. “Usually the number one guy is a serious geek, but Hunter’s ok.”
I either hate Hunter Groves or love him. Maybe I am even madly in love with him. It may be shallow, but the guy of my dreams is both hot and smart, and he’s genuine enough to fall for me despite my mere average appearance. I know it’s a double standard to want a guy with looks and brains and maybe even athletic talent, and simultaneously to want people not to judge me by my looks and lack of athletic talent, but there it is. I guess I’m not a good person. And anyway, whatever dream guy I have in my mind, real boys intimidate me completely, and I steer clear of them. The good-looking jocks use their arrogance to compensate for their dull minds, and the really smart guys usually have the people skills of lab rats. There I go again, proving myself to be superficial and judgmental, but I’m just calling it like I see it. The point is, if Hunter Groves is the smart, athletic, nice guy Wes says he is, maybe dreams do come true.
“Lizzie!” Missy says, plopping down beside me on the picnic table bench. “Brian lives just down the street from you!”
I can’t remember who Brian is, which is terrible because there are only four of them to keep track of, but I guess I haven’t paid much attention. I swivel to look at the guys on the bench behind me. A kid with wavy, dirty blond hair and glasses gives a little wave.
“Cool, right?” Missy says. “You should go talk to him.”
It occurs to me that I have been monopolizing Wes. As this is a sort of date for Missy and Wes, she might want me to buzz off. I can’t believe she’s still interested in him in more than a purely curious way. Think about it: Missy is drop-dead gorgeous, and Wes is short, with silly hair (chin length, but all slicked back behind his ears and sort of flipped up at the ends), and a habit of irritatingly wiping the back of his hand underneath his running nose.
“I think I’ll go grab a soda,” I say, standing up. I have no intention of going to chat with Brian, but I have to get a closer look at Hunter.
He is standing with a couple of other guys facing the stage. From the Boy Scouts’ snack table, I can clearly see his
Our little group—Missy, me, Wes and his three pals—move back to one of the tables far from the speakers so we can talk. Mathletes though they are, they are knowledgeable sources of school gossip. It doesn’t take long before I am totally engrossed in the dirt they’re dishing. Apparently Maura’s friend Katherine, the pageant queen, was hospitalized for bulimia in ninth grade. No one seems very sympathetic about that, and behind her back she is still called “Retch.” The boys insist she deserves no sympathy because she considers everyone to be ten steps beneath her, something I have experienced firsthand. I am disappointed they don’t have much dirt on Maura, but they give us little tidbits about almost everyone else who walks by our table.
“That kid,” Wes says, nodding his head toward a tall, thin, brown haired kid who is buying a cookie at the bake sale table, “He’s the one to beat.”
“To beat?” I ask.
“Yeah, he’s got the highest average in the senior class. He’s won the high average award the past three years, so unless someone can knock him down this year, he’ll be valedictorian.”
“Him?” I ask. The kid in question looks like some kind of wide-eyed farm boy, not like a valedictorian. He is tan and athletic-looking, but there is nothing cocky in his walk or his expression. If I had to guess just based on appearances, I would say he is probably of average intelligence at best but great with big animals like cows and horses. It is hard to picture him acing a calculus exam.
“Yep. His name is Hunter Groves. Valedictorian and star of the soccer team.”
“No kidding,” I say.
“He’s a nice kid,” Wes adds. “Usually the number one guy is a serious geek, but Hunter’s ok.”
I either hate Hunter Groves or love him. Maybe I am even madly in love with him. It may be shallow, but the guy of my dreams is both hot and smart, and he’s genuine enough to fall for me despite my mere average appearance. I know it’s a double standard to want a guy with looks and brains and maybe even athletic talent, and simultaneously to want people not to judge me by my looks and lack of athletic talent, but there it is. I guess I’m not a good person. And anyway, whatever dream guy I have in my mind, real boys intimidate me completely, and I steer clear of them. The good-looking jocks use their arrogance to compensate for their dull minds, and the really smart guys usually have the people skills of lab rats. There I go again, proving myself to be superficial and judgmental, but I’m just calling it like I see it. The point is, if Hunter Groves is the smart, athletic, nice guy Wes says he is, maybe dreams do come true.
“Lizzie!” Missy says, plopping down beside me on the picnic table bench. “Brian lives just down the street from you!”
I can’t remember who Brian is, which is terrible because there are only four of them to keep track of, but I guess I haven’t paid much attention. I swivel to look at the guys on the bench behind me. A kid with wavy, dirty blond hair and glasses gives a little wave.
“Cool, right?” Missy says. “You should go talk to him.”
It occurs to me that I have been monopolizing Wes. As this is a sort of date for Missy and Wes, she might want me to buzz off. I can’t believe she’s still interested in him in more than a purely curious way. Think about it: Missy is drop-dead gorgeous, and Wes is short, with silly hair (chin length, but all slicked back behind his ears and sort of flipped up at the ends), and a habit of irritatingly wiping the back of his hand underneath his running nose.
“I think I’ll go grab a soda,” I say, standing up. I have no intention of going to chat with Brian, but I have to get a closer look at Hunter.
He is standing with a couple of other guys facing the stage. From the Boy Scouts’ snack table, I can clearly see his
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