Brett McCarthy by Maria Padian Read Free Book Online Page A

something sickeningly familiar about the “Hey, watch it!”
    Of course, it was Bob Levesque. Who else on the planet could possibly be standing at the back-lot water fountain—what I believed to be the least-frequented place in the entire school, except for maybe the custodian’s supply closet in the basement? If I hadn’t known it before, I sure knew it then: Brett McCarthy was the unluckiest piece of dead meat in Maine.
    Bob took a step back. A semicircle of tall, cool guys, followers of the Greek God Levesque, stared at me. A sort of haze hung around their heads, and the place smelled. On the ground in front of them were discarded cigarette butts, and I realized, with the typical delayed reaction of an uncool kid who finally
gets
what the cool kids are up to, that this was where they came to smoke.
    Then the kicker.
    “Well, if it isn’t Josephine,” sneered a particularly annoying voice.
    Jeanne Anne. She wasn’t smoking (I’ll give her that), but she was standing alongside Darcy Dodson, a.k.a. Darcy the Ditz to me and Diane. The meanest, skinniest member of the Mescataqua Junior High Cheerleading Squad, and one of Jeanne Anne’s neighbors.
    “Hey, Josephine. Slow down and have a smoke,” said one of the Demigods. The others laughed.
    “No way,” said Darcy. “She’s one of those super jocks. You know, protects her lungs, eats health food.” I wondered if Darcy considered Pop-Tarts health food.
    “Whatever,” said another deity from the semicircle. “As long as you aren’t a narc. You aren’t going to tell anyone about our little…uh, meeting. Are you, Josephine?”
    I shook my head. Speech was not a possibility. My teeth seemed permanently cemented shut by the pastry and blueberry goo.
    Then the bell rang and the deities dispersed, dropping their cigarettes in the dirt and grinding them out with their heels. Jeanne Anne walked up to me.
    “See you around. Josephine.” She looked at Bob and raised her eyebrows knowingly at the “Josephine” before sauntering off. Then it was Darcy’s turn. She jabbed a red-lacquered fingernail into my chest and smirked.
    “Next time try eating the food instead of wearing it.” She and Jeanne Anne burst into hilarious giggles, then disappeared around the corner.
    As soon as they were out of sight, I lunged for the water fountain. I must have sucked down a gallon before coming up for air—that’s how long it took to clear my throat. When I lifted my head, I saw I wasn’t alone.
    Bob was still there. It was a little strange to see him without the usual crowd of adoring fans. He seemed serious, which, unbelievably, only made him look better.
    “You’re Brett McCarthy, right?” he asked quietly. I nodded.
    “You know, Brett,” he said, “my mother is a nice person. She doesn’t deserve to have people play stupid jokes on her and waste her time. That was a real loser thing to do.” Then Bob Levesque, God of Hotness, Loyal Son, turned and walked away without a backward glance.
    Leaving me, Low-Life Insect, Deadest Meat on the Planet, wondering how I was ever going to make it through school that day.
    As it turns out, I wouldn’t have to.

un•prec•e•dent•ed
    Here’s the most important thing to know about junior high: Bad news travels fast and good news is a well-kept secret.
    And at Mescataqua Junior High, really bad news, the juicy kind that ruins lives, travels at the speed of sound.
    I don’t know how she did it, but between four-thirty p.m., October 16th, and eight a.m. the following day, Jeanne Anne managed to torpedo my reputation. Granted, I had played a role in my own destruction. But the instant I saw her with Darcy the Ditz, I knew I was sunk. They had obviously walked to school together that morning, something Jeanne Anne would have arranged the night before. Which meant that before the sun had even set on October 16th, Jeanne Anne had told Darcy about the whole Levesque thing. And Darcy, no doubt, would have done a global message to