Falling From Grace by S. L. Naeole Read Free Book Online Page A

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    I turned my attention back to my paper.   I wrote my name down in the upper right hand corner, the date, and the period with some antiquated pencil that I found in the bottom of my bag.   I titled the assignment and started thinking of a way to tell Madame Hidani that my summer had been one big practical joke on me, and that the only friend I had in the world had been pitying me this whole time.  
    After a few minutes, I couldn’t see my paper anymore.   Tears — heavy and thick with grief — were blurring my view of just about everything.   But they did not fall.   Remarkably, they remained contained, merely teasing me with their weighted sting.   Surely they would not fall before a roomful of catty girls, most of whom had always hated my close friendship with Graham , would they?   Of course, it wasn’t really as close a friendship as everyone thought it was, so they couldn’t have wanted that, could they?   No.   I was sure that no one would have wanted to be made to look as foolish and gullible as I had.
    But then again, this was Graham Hasselbeck.   It didn’t matter if he forgot your name; it was enough that he had at least acknowledged that you even existed.   And he had always seemed to look beyond the fact that I lacked any outer beauty, still finding me wanting in some way, even if only in friendship.   To them, that was him being charitable; an admirable trait in any guy, much less the most popular guy in school.   And still I wondered…would he still be in my life had I chosen to keep my feelings to myself?  
    No.   Erica had been quite clear on that.   He would have done it sooner or later.   I just gave him the opening he needed.
    The bell rang — the tone shrill and piercing — wrenching me from my thoughts.   Had the hour gone by already?   The clock perched on the wall certainly seemed to think so.   I heard Madame Hidani call for our papers to be brought forward to her desk…all two pages.   All around me groans and complaints were being uttered — apparently I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t done the class assignment.
    I looked down at my blank sheet of paper, having written just my name and title.   Only…it was filled with writing — my writing.   When did I write this?   I skimmed it over quickly and recognized bits about working at the library, saving money for school… How?
    Seeking some kind of obvious answer, I looked at the seat in front of me, knowing that it would be empty.   I turned to the seat next to me.   It, too, was empty.
    Perplexed, I began gathering up my things.   With shaky hands I grabbed my paper and handed it to Madame Hidani who smiled at me upon seeing my lazy scrawl.   “ Fantastique!” she cheered in her lilting French.   “You’re only the second person to turn this assignment in, Mademoiselle Shelley.”
    “Who else turned in the assignment?” I asked, hoping that the curious tone in my voice masked my nervousness.   I didn’t believe for a second that I wrote what she was holding in her hand, but there wasn’t a single other person in the room who had put any effort into the assignment, from my understanding, so…
    “Oh, the new student, Monsieur Bellegarde also turned his paper in.   Five pages, if you can believe it!” she crowed.   She held it up so I could see.   The neat and elegant handwriting was beautiful, and completely unlike anything I had ever seen with its loops and curls that looked more like something that came out of an eighteenth century history book.   He had written five pages of that?   As if she read my mind, she nodded.   “He spent some time in France while abroad — his mother is a native of France — and so this was child’s play for him.   I think I’ll have to come up with much more difficult classroom assignments if I’m going to keep him interested, eh?”   She seemed giddy at the prospect.   I cringed.
    Excusing myself, I lugged my book bag over my shoulder and headed