Crushed by Laura McNeal Read Free Book Online Page A

circled two items. The first one read:
    Hold on to your poles, Bargemen (no, not those poles) but it turns
out you aren’t alone in your youthful indiscretions . . . Joining you
is the teacher hip enough to go by one name and it’s not Prince, Cher
or Jewel but why not call her Winona because once upon a time (or
for you Fact Freaks and you know who you are make that Aug 11,
1972) in Filene’s Basement our good teacher acquired several garments Winona-style probably the medication she was taking or
maybe a role she was studying for can explain it because we can’t but
then who are we to hurl the first harpoon? . . .
    Audrey looked up. “Yikes.”
    â€œWhich one?” C.C. said.
    â€œPatrice shoplifting.”
    C.C. nodded. “Keep reading.”
    The second circled item in the “Outed” column read:
    Zounds! . . . Iz they iz or iz they izn’t? . . . Z-Gal’s zilent
when it comes to the zubject but our zource zites a cosmetic zurgeon
in Zaratoga as the zite of the Great Augmentation (our reporters in
their unyielding impartial search for Truth & Injustice remain open
to personal inspection of the great glands) . . . And this just in
from our upstate bureau: A Big Congratz, O Sandy One! . . . Thatz right, the Z-Gal’s zandy zidekick’s been accepted early deci
sion at Mount Holyoke thereby laying to rest all talk about
Holyoke’s discriminating against the leotarded (“SATs never tell the
whole story,” the Vice Dean of Admissions told our reporters. “We
take other things, including really good jazz dancing, into account
in order to get the diversity we seek.”) . . .
    â€œPretty harsh,” Audrey said.
    â€œBut I notice you’re grinning,” C.C. said.
    â€œWell, Patrice, Zondra, and Sands. If you asked me to pick worthy targets—”
    Lea said, “Somebody told me
The Yellow Paper
came out a couple of times last year, and the administration had a cow.”
    C.C. laughed. “Then I guess they’re calving again.”
    â€œAnd they never caught them?” Audrey asked.
    Lea shook her head no.
    C.C. had brought cucumber sandwiches, Audrey’s personal favorite, and as she passed them to the others, she said, “Maybe it’s not a
them,
then. Maybe it’s a
him.”
    â€œThe Yellow Man,” Audrey said, chewing.
    Lea said quietly, “Or the Yellow Girl.”
    Right,
Audrey thought.
Why should one gender have a corner
on revenge?
An icy breeze came up, and Audrey shivered.
    â€œThat’s him,” C.C. said suddenly, and Audrey turned to follow C.C.’s gaze to a boy walking alone across the quad. It was Wickham Hill. Spring in the middle of wintry thoughts.
    â€œThat’s he,” Lea corrected, looking, too. “But
who
is he?”
    Before Audrey could speak, C.C. said, “The new boy. The dreamy one.”
    A soft-handed pride held Audrey for a moment.
    Lea said “dreamy” seemed excessive.
    â€œYou should see him up close,” C.C. said.
    They all watched as Wickham Hill moved easily into a group of boys in the quad.
    â€œHis name’s Wickham Hill,” Audrey said, almost blurting it out.
    â€œWicked Hill?” C.C. asked, laughing.
    â€œWicked Hill,” Lea repeated. “It sounds like a skateboard park. Or a rapper.”
    â€œIt’s
Wickham
Hill,” Audrey said. “He’s nice, and he’s coming to my house tonight to study physics.”
    She didn’t look at C.C. or Lea, but she could feel their eyes turning to her, as heliotropes to the sun.
    A few seconds passed; then C.C. said, “God, Audrey.”
    It was the first time in her friendship with C.C. that Audrey had ever felt truly envied.
    C.C. said, “Well, if he needs help with French, you let him know Lea and I are aces on the subjunctive.”
    Audrey smiled. “I will,” she said.

Chapter 12
    Strangeness
    What occurred in Patrice’s class that