Gravestone by Travis Thrasher Read Free Book Online Page B

Jocelyn.
    She walks on, and for a moment I stand in the middle of the hallway, a rock in the center of the stream. Then, as I turn to head to the cafeteria, I see Poe.
    Watching me.
    “Hey,” I call out.
    But she disappears down the hallway and into the girls’ room. And as much as I’d like to talk to her, I’ve already made a fool of myself today.
    “Is that yours?”
    I don’t even notice the girl in front of me asking the question. At first I wonder if she’s even talking to me, then notice the eyes behind the little glasses looking my way.
    “What?” I blurt.
    “The painting—is that yours?”
    She’s got her hand on the mess that’s my painting. Monet would roll in his grave.
    “Oh, yeah, sure, thanks,” I say, reaching to grab it.
    She seems to want to help, but instead I jostle it away from her and somehow I end up pulling the canvas over her arm. She’s wearing a very ordinary pink sweater that suddenly doesn’t look very ordinary with the black streaks on the sleeve.
    “Oh, man, I’m sorry,” I say.
    “It’s fine. Really.”
    Her face is splashed just like her arm, but with a distinct color of red. She shakes her head and acts like a mouse just wanting to scamper away. She takes her painting, which was right next to mine in the shelves, and walks to her place.
    I roll my eyes and sigh. Even when I don’t try, I do things to make people not like me.
    “Can I …” I start to say, but I don’t really know what I can do. She’s not going to take off the sweater. Not in class.
    I watch the girl go to her spot in the room. A few minutes into class, I glance her way.
    She’s a quiet girl. All I know about her is that her name is Kelsey Page and she’s a junior, like me.
    Wonder if she lives in Solitary. Wonder if she knows.
    I wonder if any of these kids know. Maybe they all do. Maybe they’re walking around and thinking, There’s Jocelyn’s guy, the poor sap that was pulled into her little web, the guy from Chicago who doesn’t belong here.
    Kelsey brushes back her blond hair gently with the arm that I painted. I almost want to laugh. I still feel awful. I’m surprised she didn’t go try to clean it.
    My painting is supposed to be of a cabin in the woods, but it looks like a candy bar that’s been sitting in the sun for an hour. It’s one big goopy mess.
    At one point in class, as I get some more paint, I see Kelsey passing by me.
    “Hey, sorry, really,” I say.
    “It’s okay.”
    She looks away. I can tell that she doesn’t talk to guys much. Or maybe she just doesn’t talk.
    “At least it looks better than my painting,” I say, trying to be funny.
    “What does?”
    “Your arm.”
    This gets a smile.
    I notice for the first time that she’s got braces, the clear kind but visible enough to probably cause her to try and hide them.
    It’s more than just a smile, however. For me it’s a peace offering.
    I don’t want every single person in this building to think I’m a moron.
    The glance I get from Kelsey makes me think that no, she doesn’t think so.
    Then again, the smartest thing for her or any other girl in this school to do is to stay far away from me.

15. Lost
     
    When I get home, I can’t find Midnight. It takes me five minutes of calling out her name and looking around the house before I admit she’s missing. It takes another five seconds for me to go completely bonkers.
    Mom’s not home. This is something I already knew. I race up the stairs and go into my bedroom again, looking in the closet and under the bed and in the covers. I scan the bathroom quickly again, then look in the small room that’s used for storage, even though we have nothing to store.
    Midnight’s nowhere to be found.
    I call her name. Over and over and over again. Each time I get louder. Each time I sound more terrified.
    “Midnight!”
    I look everywhere. In my mom’s room, in her bathroom, in our kitchen, in the laundry room. It’s not like this is a huge mansion or anything.
    I