Out of My Mind by Pat White Read Free Book Online Page B

God. This is it! Greg is about to ask me to a party, which means he’s about to ask me to officially “go out.”
    “Here,” J.D. interrupts the near-perfect moment by stepping between us and shoving papers at me. “Your notes.”
    “Back off,” I say. “Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”
    “I can make him back off,” Greg threatens.
    “No, it’s okay.” I touch Greg’s arm, afraid that if the two of them get into a fight Greg will end up benched. “Could you make copies of your notes in the office?” I ask Greg. “I’ll meet you there.”
    “You sure?” He glares at J.D.
    “Yep.” I want to settle this, alone, with my evil shadow.
    “Okay.” Greg shoots J.D. one last threatening scowl and walks off.
    “Your notes, Princess.” J.D. waves them in my face.
    “I don’t want your damned notes. And don’t call me that.”
    “Tough. Take them, burn them, do whatever you want.”
    “What I want is for you to leave me alone, especially if I’m talking to Greg.”
    J.D. levels me with intense blue-green eyes. “Hoffman is bad news.”
    I burst out laughing, but recover quickly. Don’t want kids thinking I enjoy talking to Pratt. I narrow my eyes at him. “Says the guy who almost killed me.”
    “Get over it already.”
    I jerk back. “What?”
    “This whole feel-sorry-for-me act. Maybe it works on teachers and your flake friends, but I see right through it.”
    “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this.”
    “Why, because you’re a fragile princess?” He steps closer and our eyes lock. “What’s gonna happen? You gonna break? I doubt it. You smashed your skull against the pavement and didn’t break. You’re indestructible,” he pauses, “and you’re a bitch.”
    Insults catch in my throat. I struggle to form words from the hatred bouncing around in my brain.
    Crap! It’s too late. Crazy HULU girl’s eyes are locked onto her cruel tormentor’s.
    I’m slipping away.
    In front of my mortal enemy.
    “No,” I whisper.
    “No, what? You’re not indestructible? Or you’re not a bitch?” His voice sounds muffled, far away.
    Then silence.
    Consumed by darkness, I gasp for breath.
    I’m standing in the corner of a kitchen with faded yellow wallpaper and worn cabinets. J.D. washes dishes at the sink wearing a red-checked apron. His younger brother, Billy, is sitting at the kitchen table with a textbook cracked open.
    “Sonofabitch!” a deep voice howls from another room.
    Billy’s eyes pop wide and his cheeks redden.
    “Get out of here,” J.D. orders.
    Billy shoves his book into his backpack and literally flies through the back door.
    “Billy!” A burly guy wearing sweatpants and a sleeveless undershirt storms into the kitchen clutching a bottle of whisky. He smells like the bottom of our kitchen garbage can.
    It’s Mr. Pratt. Only, not like the Mr. Pratt I’ve ever seen.
    “Where the hell is he?” he demands.
    “He’s got cross country, remember?” J.D. continues washing dishes.
    “Yeah, you know everything, don’t you, you little prick?”
    Mr. Pratt grab’s J.D.’s arm and yanks him away from the sink. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
    “No one.” J.D. bows his head. “I’m no one.”
    “Don’t sass me, boy.” He backhands J.D.
    I gasp, stumble backwards and hit the ground. The impact slams me back to reality.
    Someone is gripping my shoulders.
    “What the hell’s the matter with you?” J.D. says.
    I’m panting like I just ran the fifty-yard dash. Slow down. You’re back. It’s okay.
    “Catherine?” J.D.’s voice sounds irritated, angry.
    I notice his disheveled hair that practically covers his eyes, hair that makes him look like a stoner, a loser. I reach up to brush the hair away from his right cheekbone where his dad hit him.
    “What the hell?” He grabs my wrist. “Don’t touch me.”
    My gaze drifts to J.D.’s fingers wrapped around my wrist. My skin doesn’t burn or itch. This connection grounds me