Double Clutch by Liz Reinhardt Read Free Book Online Page B

eventually. If you’re too chicken to face it, that’s your thing.”
    He stalked away like he owned the whole hallway, and I went to class so mad I could feel my face flaming. Who did he think he was? Obviously God’s gift to women. I had never met anyone so arrogant, so completely full of himself. I marched into English and plopped down in my seat. Mr. Dawes was already filling up the chalkboard with notes about Golding’s life and career. I took out my blue notebook and binder (everything for English was blue. I know; color coding is dork central), when Devon Conner turned around.
    “ You’re in Tech?” He blinked like there was something in his eye.
    “ Yes,” I hissed. “What’s it to you?”
    “ Well, this is honors English,” he said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think Tech kids were allowed in honors classes.” He had a big nose. It crossed my mind that it would make an excellent target for my fist.
    “ Look, jerkoff, maybe you should turn around and take the freaking notes before they ship you off to Tech with all the other dirty lowlifes like me.”
    “ I was just asking a question,” Devon whined.
    “ A pretty damn stupid one,” I muttered.
    “ Is there a problem Mr. Conner? Ms. Blixen?” Mr. Dawes asked.
    “ No.” I gave him my most angelic face. “Devon can’t see the board. He was asking to copy my notes after class.”
    Butter could have melted in my mouth, I was that good.
    Mr. Dawes nodded. “Mr. Conner, front and center. Ms. Blixen isn’t your personal transcriber. If you need a seat adjustment, bring a note from your eye doctor,” he barked. I smirked when Mr. Dawes’s back was turned.
    “ Geez, I was just asking a question,” Devon sulked childishly.
    Right.
    The rest of the day went just as badly. In Government I had to sit right next to Saxon and work through the problems that were on our sheet. He didn’t lift a finger to help, which annoyed me.
    “ We’re supposed to be partners.” I scribbled on my paper with furious frustration when my ink went dry.
    “ Not all partnerships are equal.” He smiled meanly, plucked the pen out of my hand, wet the tip on his tongue, and handed it back to me. “Maybe we don’t have a symbiotic relationship.”
    “ So instead of you being the little bird eating meat out of my crocodile jaws, you’re the big, fat tapeworm killing me slowly?” I spat, ultra annoyed when the ink flowed smoothly on the paper.
    “ You took biology already?”
    “ My mom and I did a home school program in Denmark last year, and we liked the earth science part so much we did the biology right after we were done.” I kept my voice monotone on purpose.
    “ So you were a supergeek, working round the clock on science hypotheses?” He jiggled his leg and made my sentence scrawl sideways down the page. I glared at him.
    “ Actually, when you cut out the textbook bull and don’t have twenty-five other apes to deal with, a lesson that takes forty-five minutes in school can take a fraction of the time at home.” My voice grew louder against my will. “For example, a government sheet that would normally take me half an hour can take three times longer to do when I have an irritating partner asking me idiotic questions every few minutes.”
    He snatched his paper off of the table, dug in his pocket for a pen, and nodded at me. “Ready?” he asked
    “ For what?”
    “ You did pages four to six. I’ll do seven to nine.” He raised his eyebrows, at me. “Ready?” repeated.
    I couldn’t help but like the dark gleam in his eye, and if I said I didn’t like the way his muscles pushed through his Black Lips t-shirt, I’d be lying. I had to give myself a little slack if I couldn’t stop glancing at the tears in his gray work pants, where the dark, hairy skin of his legs showed through and looked so guyish and unlike my smooth, white legs.
    “ I’m ready when you are.” I held my pen up expectantly.
    “ Page seven, question 31. Write this: “The