Speed of Life by J.M. Kelly Read Free Book Online Page B

college, anyway, Crys?”
    â€œNothing. I’m not going.” Then I tell her how Ms. Spellerman said I could learn about repairing cars, and Amber laughs again. “Yeah, I know,” I say. “Because I need to pay someone to teach me stuff I can learn from Jimmy for free?”
    â€œTotally,” she agrees.
    We stay up until almost midnight, watching TV and doing homework. Han hangs with us, supposedly studying for an ethics class he’s taking but mostly hogging the remote. I try to grab it from him, but he holds it out of reach. “Why do you have to keep changing the channel?”
    â€œIt’s a guy thing.”
    â€œPick a show and leave it there before I have to kill you. I can’t concentrate.”
    â€œWill you two shut up?” Amber asks.
    She does her own math and mine while I write a persuasive essay for English class, taking the side that a Mustang fastback is superior to the original design. Han continues to flip channels while we ignore him.
    On Monday during sixth period, I get called down to see Ms. Spellerman again, and some of the kids in my class say, “Ooooh . . .” like we’re in the third grade and I’m busted. I grab my stuff and head to her office. Now what does she want?
    â€œCome in, Miss Robbins,” she says when I knock on her door.
    Her face is really pale, and her eyes look red and kind of watery. I wonder if she has a cold. Just in case, I don’t get too close. Me and Amber are germ magnets. We get everything that’s going around, and then we give it to each other. It didn’t used to be a big deal, but now we’ve got Natalie to worry about.
    â€œI’ve only got a few minutes,” she says, “but I have something I thought you’d be interested in.”
    I smile, but only because she looks like she might start crying. “Umm . . . okay.”
    â€œAfter our little talk last week, I did some research on the Internet and guess what I found?”
    I shrug.
    â€œA college that teaches exactly what you want to know.”
    I’m not following her.
    â€œAutomotive restoration!” she says. “You learn everything about restoring vintage cars.”
    â€œReally?” This
is
surprising. I’m still not going to college, but it’s kind of cool to know a degree like that exists.
    â€œIt’s in McPherson, Kansas.”
    Kansas? I can’t even place the state on a map. Somewhere in the middle, maybe?
    Ms. Spellerman holds out a whole pile of papers toward me. When she does, I see her left hand is bare. The engagement ring is missing. Could that be why she looks so bad? I don’t really want the papers, but the idea that she and her fiancé broke up and she still took the time to do this . . . well, I’d feel a little bad not taking the stuff, so I let her give the stack to me.
    â€œNow,” she says, “there’s information there on the program—​how to apply, and deadlines and all that. I’ve made a list of the dates for the SATs and how to sign up for them, too. And that green sheet?”
    I fumble around and pull it out.
    â€œThat’s a step-by-step timeline for you. I know you said you don’t want to go to college, but I thought maybe that’s because the process is so overwhelming. This is designed to make it as easy as possible.” She gives me a watery smile. “This way you don’t have any excuses.”
    â€œUmm . . . thanks.”
    Her phone rings and she tells me she has to take it but I should come back next month to let her know how it’s going. Also, she offers to write me a letter of recommendation even though we only met last week.
    As soon as I’m back in the hallway and her door is shut, I drop the pile of papers into the nearest recycling can. I’m halfway to English when I turn around and go back. The bin’s right outside Ms. Spellerman’s door. What if she