Beckoners by Carrie Mac Read Free Book Online Page A

lingered after Mrs. Henley stepped out to fetch something from the office. They circled Dog’s desk, howling quietly.
    â€œUgh, smells like wet dog.” Lindsay scrunched up her nose. “Watch yourself, Zoe, you get any closer and you’ll start reeking of it too. I think Dog should move her pimply ass.”
    Dog kept her eyes on Zoe.
    â€œMove it!” Lindsay pointed to a desk in the very back corner.
    Still, Dog stared, waiting for Zoe to prove she wasn’t like the Beckoners.
    Zoe could only think of Lisa Patterson, her scraped bald head and the words that wouldn’t wash off.
    â€œWhat are you looking at me for?” The words were pointed, but Zoe hoped her tone might soften them a little.
    â€œYou think Zoe gives a shit what I do to you?” Lindsay leaned over so she was looking straight down at Dog’s dandruffy head. “You think anyone does?”
    Jazz grabbed Dog’s ears and made her shake her head.
    â€œZoe? Do you give a shit what I do to Dog?”
    Zoe could barely hear her for the gusty winds battering her at the top of a perilous peak, cliffs dropping off on either side. At the bottom of one was the cruel backstabbing place the Beckoners infested, a place crawling with nasty-ass comebacks and vindictive she-devils. At the bottom of the other was the equally terrible wasteland of the bullied. If she said yes, she’d fall there, and while they were both horrible, one was certainly safer than the other.
    â€œNo,” Zoe said miserably, looking at her feet.
    Dog looked away when Zoe said that. Even after the first dig, she’d been willing to give Zoe another chance, she wasn’t a real Beckoner, not yet, but there she was sinking deeper into that bitch place, that pick-on-the-little-guy place, that ugly and competitive bullying place.
    In one of his “Simon Says” moments, Simon had told Zoe about the day of the fire alarm, the day the Beckoners made Dog eat all those dog biscuits. Now Zoe understood why Simon hadn’t done anything to stop them, why no one had. It was all about survival. Everyone had to look out for themselves. Dog was just really really bad at it.
    When Mrs. Henley came back, she surveyed the scene: Zoe, Lindsay and Jazz at the front, heads together, and Dog, scribbling in her notebook, exiled at the back of the room. She told Lindsay and Jazz to leave, and asked Dog to come back upto the front. Mrs. Henley leaned against the desk, arms folded, looking down her nose at the unlikely pair.
    â€œShould I ask what that was about?”
    Dog shook her head. At least she knew that much about survival.
    â€œNo?”
    Dog shook her head again.
    Mrs. Henley looked at Zoe. She shook her head too. “Okay then, on to business. I’ve had the delight of looking over your records from Prince George, Zoe. You and April should both be in Advanced English, and I apologize on behalf of this overdrawn school district for not having the resources to make that a reality at this point. However, I offer you this. I will give you extra assignments, and in the end, you’ll be credited for Advanced English.”
    Dog looked at Zoe, a big dumb grin on her face, like all of a sudden, never mind all that crap before, she’d been awarded a new best friend. Friends by default. In that way, she really was a dog; kick it one second and call it the next, and it’ll race back, tongue lolling happily. “Thanks, Mrs. H!”
    Mrs. Henley smiled at Dog. “And how does that arrangement work for you, Miz Anderson?”
    â€œWill we have to leave class to do the extra work?” Zoe imagined long hours in the library, stuck with Dog.
    Mrs. Henley shook her head. “You’ll work on them in class, and on your own time. Does that suit you?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou mean to say ‘yes.’”
    â€œYes. Thanks.”
    â€œWhy do I get the impression that this is bothersome to you?”
    â€œNo,