Number 8 by Anna Fienberg Read Free Book Online Page A

slow step toward Badman. Only a few inches from Badman’s face, he makes the sign of the seven with the crossbow in the middle. There’s a moment of total stillness. Jackson’s eyes are fixed on Badman. Jackson doesn’t blink, and a weird wheezing sound comes from deep inside his chest. He looks as if he’s possessed, haunted. As if he belongs to some mysterious martial arts cult. The seven samurais, maybe. His face is solemn like petrified wood. No one breathes.
    The bell screams into the quiet. Badman jumps like a cricket. He starts to say something, tries to laugh, then lopes off toward the science labs. The rest of us follow. I look back to say “Good for you, Jackson” or maybe give him a highfive, but Asim is there, slapping him on the back. How amazing! Asim looks so different when he smiles. I realize he doesn’t do that very much. As they pass on the way to the classroom Jackson doesn’t even look at me. He’s too busy coughing and talking to Asim.
    â€œWhat don’t you like about seven?” Asim is asking. He doesn’t seem to be scared of Jackson’s wheezing bark or his weird cult impression. Just interested. “Is it because it is odd or a prime number or bad luck? Or is it because of the seven deadly sins?”
    â€œOdd numbers make me anxious,” says Jackson.
    I’m glad Badman isn’t around to hear that!
    But Asim nods. “Have you heard of the idea of seventh heaven?”
    Jackson shakes his head.
    â€œWell, in the Muslim faith seventh heaven is the furthest of the concentric spheres containing the stars. It includes the dwelling place of God and the angels.”
    Jackson’s face is all lit up. “That’s really interesting. I always felt seven had a mystical sort of power. Negative, of course, being odd. Murderous, sort of. But maybe I’ll have to reassess it—take this new angle into consideration.”
    Asim nods solemnly. “It is good to see all the evidence before you make a judgment. About anything.” And he gives Jackson a long stare.
    The way they walk into the classroom, you’d think they’d known each other all their lives.
    â€œHey, Ez, I’ve got the CD. Will we go to the music room and rehearse?” It’s Lilly, tugging my arm at lunchtime. “Mrs. Reilly said the tryouts for the concert will be straight after lunch.”
    My mouth is full of peanut butter sandwich. I’ve been saving Mom’s lemon delight cake for last. Nothing is going to stop me from savoring that. I know it will be the best moment of the day.
    â€œOoh, is that a lemon delight?” says Lilly, peering into my lunch box. “Could I have it? I forgot my lunch today, probably because Mitch came by and we walked to school together. I forgot
everything
.” She giggles happily.
    The light-as-air, custard-filled heaven is in her mouth and swallowed before I can even say, “Well, actually, I…”
    She looks at my face. “Oops! … I did it again!” she sings.
    That is the name of the Britney Spears song that we are about to go and perform before the entire school. It’s hard to think of a more cretinous title. Lilly waves the CD in my face and jumps up.
    â€œI’m so nervous,” she says, hopping from one foot to the other. “Imagine, Mitch’s never heard me sing before. Thank heavens you’ll be there to keep me going. You know, Mitchell really likes you. He said we should go out in a foursome sometime. Who could you take? I know, that new boy. Jackson. He’s very cute, Ez, isn’t he? You know if it weren’t for Mitch, well—” Her eyes go wide and impossibly blue.
    â€œOh, come on, let’s get it over with.” I throw my wrappings in the bin, stuff my lunch box in my bag and stomp off toward the hall.
    I can hear her running prettily behind me. My legs feel like blocks of concrete.
Fat
concrete.
    â€œLilly Pierce and