Lucid by Adrienne Stoltz, Ron Bass Read Free Book Online Page A

dumb mathalon (a marathon of mathematics), tutoring sign-up for tutors and tutorees, we will no longer be served polenta in the cafeteria because it was too hard to scrape off the walls after last Thursday’s “incident.” And through all of this, every cell of my being is focused on the beautiful boy six rows behind me. It feels as if his pale gray eyes are boring into the back of my neck despite my absolute certainty that he hasn’t noticed I’m alive. And then, dear Mr. Sanchez wipes James Waters from my mind.
    “I know that all of you are, I suppose the phrase is, ‘looking forward to’ the opportunity to honor the memory of William Rainey on the athletic field next Friday afternoon. I never had the pleasure of personally knowing Bill, but I have heard from so many students and faculty members of his gentle intelligence, his kindness, his sweetness of spirit, and of course, his athletic prowess.Now I suppose all of you know that your classmate in this very homeroom, Sloane Jameson, will be one of the principal speakers at this event…”
    Everyone turns to look at me. Some actually slide their chairs around to have a better view. It would be a relief if the floor beneath my desk could open wide so I’d plummet to hell.
    “Now I haven’t actually spoken to Sloane about this…”
    Let’s keep it that way.
    “…but I’m going to take the liberty…”
    Uh-oh. This is never a favorable sign.
    “…of suggesting that any of you who has a personal memory or story to tell about our Bill—perhaps humorous, perhaps poignant, but certainly revealing—”
    Is there any possible way that by simply wanting to die in this moment, I could will myself to make it happen? An aneurysm perhaps?
    “…might email or text or Tweet or, to date myself, even dare to telephone Sloane with your story, in case she’d like to include it. This memorial is for all of you. And not to put poor Sloane on the spot…”
    Just in time.
    “…I know that none of you will think the less of her if your stories are not used. Sloane, have you already prepared your remarks?”
    “Can we just go back to that polenta thing again?”
    One voice laughs from the back of the room. And even though the laugh isn’t overtly cruel, I know that it is mocking my poor attempt at humor, and I am humiliated beyond belief. I didn’t know it was possible for a human blush to last thirteen minutes. Regular color and body temperature don’t return to my skin until longafter the bell, when I dash from the room to the girls’ room to splash my face with cold water.
    It is embarrassing how easily embarrassed I am. But this incident was intolerable, especially given the subject matter. James Waters was the only one who laughed out loud, but it felt like the whole room had me tarred and feathered and was chuckling at my discomfort.
    As I enter each of my morning classes, I say a heartfelt atheist’s prayer that James won’t be there. He isn’t in French, calculus, AP European History, or physics. I keep my head low in the halls all day, trying to be invisible. As I head off to lunch, I realize that since my fifth period is free study, my only remaining risk is sixth-period AP Lit. The one wild card is lunch. I just have to avoid seeing him or letting him see me.
    Lila and Kelly are up on the hill. I join them and plop down on the grass as if reaching home base in a game of tag I’m playing all by myself. It’s not like I have a bull’s-eye on the back of my shirt. It’s not like he or anyone else even remembers homeroom at this point. Get over yourself, Sloane. I just need to push him from my mind.
    No. Such. Luck.
    “Have you seen him?” Lila is practically foaming at the mouth.
    “Who?”
    “The love child of Johnny Depp and the most beautiful woman who ever lived, whoever she is. Or was.”
    “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”
    Kelly taps me on the shoulder. She points. He is no more than twenty yards away. He’s not sitting isolated and