Seven Dead Pirates by Linda Bailey Read Free Book Online Page A

sideways and dropped into an empty desk, wishing he could shrivel up like a raisin and fall through a crack in the floor. La-la-la, he continued—forever, it felt like—until Mrs. Dearborn
finally
stopped. Thunk, thunk went her cane down the aisle.
    As she passed Lewis’s desk, she paused.
    What now, he thought. Suddenly, her hand came out, and—was she
really
smoothing down the hair at the back of his head? Was his cowlick sticking up again? Who on the whole, stupid planet
cared
if Lewis’s hair stuck up?
    His mother, that’s who. She made a loud “tsk” sound.
    Mr. Dearborn added his own good-bye—a fond pat on Lewis’s shoulder. Finally, they were gone. Lewis let out all the breath he’d been holding in.
    Then he waited, scrunched tight against the plastic of his chair. Sooner or later, Ms. Forsley would do it. Speak directly to him.
    It didn’t happen right away. When she took attendance, he managed to squeak out a “Here!” It sounded weird and got a few laughs, but she moved on quickly.
    “Danny Divers?”
    No answer. Lewis looked around.
    “Does anybody know where Danny is?”
    From the back, someone said, “He moved away at the beginning of summer.”
    Lewis felt a stab of disappointment. Danny Divers wasn’t exactly his friend. More like an ally. He and Danny had been somehow on the same side. And now Danny was gone.
    When attendance ended, Ms. Forsley welcomed the class and said all the usual things about having a good year together. Then she suggested that they begin by each telling one interesting thing they had done over the summer.
    “I’ll start,” she said. “This summer I traveled to the Rocky Mountains with some friends to go hiking.”
    There was more, but Lewis didn’t hear because of the roar in his ears. His heart began to pound, and his head and upper body filled with warmth. He heard the other kids saying … something. He tried to think of what
he
had done this summer. Moved to Shornoway, of course. But it didn’t matter. It was hopeless.
He
was hopeless.
    Some of the kids had long stories, so it took a while to get to him.
    “And you, Lewis?” said Ms. Forsley.
    The room went quiet.
    She waited. The whole class waited.
    Lewis felt heat, like flames from a furnace, rise through his body and flow into his face. He felt panic seize his muscles, holding them tight and rigid. He opened his mouth. Ms. Forsley leaned forward.
    Nothing came out. Not even a grunt.
    The silence grew.
    “Lewis?” said Ms. Forsley.
    The silence dragged on. Lewis knew what he looked like. Scarlet. His face was now the same reddish color as his hair. No. Brighter! Kids had
told
him how he looked when this happened. Like a human tomato.
    At least he wasn’t crying. Sometimes when this happened, tears ran down his face.
    At least he wasn’t doing that.
    Finally, a voice spoke up. Seth Tyler’s voice, polite. “He can’t talk.”
    “What do you mean?” said Ms. Forsley. “Of course he can. Lewis?”
    “No,” insisted Seth, his voice not quite so polite anymore. “He can’t talk in class. He never does. We’ll sit here all
day
if you wait for him.”
    Muffled giggles followed.
    “That’s enough.” Ms. Forsley sounded rattled. “Lewis, we’ll give you another chance later. Now … um, Catherine?”
    Another chance later. That was bad. It meant she would keep trying. Most of his teachers
did
keep trying. They thought it was their job to get Lewis to talk in class. They even gave grades for it. They called it participation. Or worse, oral presentation.
    Lewis had seen a movie on TV once where the main character described himself as “terminally shy.” The phrase stuck in Lewis’s mind because that was exactly what
he
was. If it were possible to actually die of shyness, Lewis would have been in his grave long ago. Back in first grade, probably. That was the first time he had found himself in a class with other kids, his parents having kept him out of kindergarten because of a flu scare.