Leaving Paradise by Simone Elkeles Read Free Book Online

scoop?” Sabrina asks Danielle.
    “Well . . .” Danielle says, pausing on purpose to make sure she has everyone’s attention. “My mom is on the school board and I overheard they made Caleb a deal. He has to take junior final exams in all his classes and then he can officially be a senior. If he fails, he’ll be held back a year.”
    “He’s a dumb wrestling jock,” Brynn Healey chimes in. “He’ll never pass.”
    He’s not dumb; I know he’s smarter than people think. When we were in elementary school, Caleb got a ribbon for getting the highest GPA in sixth grade one semester. He was proud; you should have seen the huge grin on his face as they handed the ribbon to him.
    Caleb got teased by his friends for proudly displaying it on his sports trophy shelf. They started calling him names and accused him of having a secret affair with our three-hundred-pound English teacher, Ms. Bolinsky. After that, Leah told me he gave her the ribbon. Caleb’s grades dropped and he never got another ribbon. The relief on his face each time they presented it to someone else was so obvious. Well, obvious to me.
    The bell rings and, luckily, the mob starts to disperse.
    I just pray Caleb ignores me if we ever come face to face again.
    I grab my locker to steady myself and stand. Closing the door, I head toward my first-period class. I’m late, but assume my limp excuse will work.
    I catch sight of Leah coming out of the bathroom. My old best friend walks toward me, not paying attention because she’s looking down.
    If things were different, I’d ask her why she wears all black clothes. If things were different, I’d ask her how it feels having her brother back.
    When she finally does look up and notices I’m in her path, she makes an about-face and scurries away.

eleven
    Caleb
    The school principal is standing over my desk. The desk has been placed in the man’s office so I can take the dreaded exams.
    I should never have come back to school. I’d gone to classes in the DOC; it was part of the juvenile inmate program. The tests aren’t the problem, either. It’s the way Meyer is staring at me like he’s never seen an ex-con before. The unnecessary attention is driving me insane.
    I focus on the second final exam placed in front of me this morning. It isn’t as if I’m acing the tests so far, but I haven’t flunked them either.
    “You done?” Meyer asks.
    I have one more algebra question left, but with the guy standing over me it’s close to impossible to concentrate. Not wanting to fuck it up, I’m doing my best to answer the question correctly.
    It takes me five minutes longer than it should, but I’m finally ready for the next exam.
    “Go have lunch, Becker,” Meyer orders after collecting the test.
    Lunch? In the cafeteria with half the student body? No way, man. “I’m not hungry.”
    “You gotta eat. Feed that brain of yours.”
    What did he mean by that? Stop being paranoid , I tell myself. That’s one of the side effects of being jailed. You always analyze people’s words and expressions as if they’re playing with you. A joke on the ex-con, ha ha.
    I stand. Beyond the principal’s door are over four hundred students waiting for a glimpse of the guy who went to jail. I rub the knot that just reappeared on the back of my neck.
    “Go on,” Meyer urges. “You have three more exams so move those feet. Be back here in twenty-five minutes.”
    I put my sweaty palm on the door handle, twist, and take a deep breath.
    Out in the hallway, I don’t waste any time and head for the cafeteria. Once inside, I ignore all of the stares. Coffee. I need strong, black coffee. That’ll ease my nerves and keep me awake the rest of the afternoon. Scanning the room, I remember there’s no coffee available for students. I bet they have a coffee pot in the teachers’ lounge, though. Would they notice if I steal one cup? Or will they call the police and claim I’m a thief in addition to the other labels already