The Boy Project by Kami Kinard Read Free Book Online Page B

wasn’t too upset about our prank because he acted completely normal during algebra. But after class he handed me a note that I was momentarily, I admit, just a bit excited about taking. Then I opened it.

    By the time I got to science, the note had gotten damp in my nervous, sweaty hands. But I felt a little better when I saw Chip smiling and waving his little white note like a flag of surrender. We’d underestimated what an important fueling station the teacher’s lounge is on the information highway. Mrs. Hill squealed on us!
    Somehow I could tell detention wasn’t going to be as much fun this time. I think that’s because Mr. DeLacey used the phrase “contacted your parents” in his note, and one thing’s for sure: Nothing is as much fun when your parents are involved.
    Later, in detention, I learned that in addition to being good at explaining math, Mr. DeLacey can also really deliver a lecture. And not the fun kind like
Why gummy worms grow three times their size when
soaked in water
. The kind you usually hear coming out of a parent’s mouth. He started with what a hard job substitutes have, got louder when he asked if we knew how difficult it is to get a sub when kids don’t behave, and then veered into how extremely rude and disrespectful we were to force someone to read crude names like Monk E. Butts! (Good thing he didn’t know about the names that
didn’t
make the list.)
    He ended the lecture with “Do you get it now?” (Let me tell you, that phrase is
never
going to mean the same thing to me in algebra.) I just nodded my head and knew that I was going to have to do a lot of explaining to my mom when we got home.
    And I knew something else, too. I’d never look into those big blue eyes again and think they’re really nice. But the experience did teach me something:
    Don’t try to pull one over on a math teacher. They’re too good at figuring things out.
Bedtime
    Mom made me hand over my cell phone as soon as we got in the car. She said instead of talking to my friends, I should be thinking about the fact that “misbehaving for a substitute is actually disrespecting the regular teacher.” I guess when she came to pick me up she saw what I used to see in Mr. DeLacey’s big blue eyes while he explained how Chip and I had “violated the teacher-student bonds of trust.” All I know is she sure was nodding a lot while he talked to her. He was probably hoping she’d lay an additional punishment on me, too. She did. Kind of. She de-phoned me.
    I don’t really mind this punishment because I’m pretty sure it just saved the life of my cell phone. I swear I’m going to throw it in the toilet if Tabbi calls me one more time to tell me that Evan Carlson is perfect and that she is absolutely positively in love. She thinks it’s “the real thing.” They have now been together for the six longest days of my life.
    I don’t want to think about it. Instead, I’ll think about the fact that a ton of middle-school romances last less than a week. So there’s a pretty good chance that one day they’ll break up. Maybe tomorrow, even. Then I’ll still have a chance with Evan. Because, you know, you never know. . . .

Thursday, January 18
Fourth period
    Dear Mr. DeLacey,
    I know what you’re doing even though I’m not looking at you. I try to avoid looking at you now because I’ve realized your soul is mean. And somehow seeing the mean side of a person’s soul changes the way his face looks, too. That’s right. The number of girls in our class who think you are cute has just been reduced by one. You do the math!
    I know
what you’re doing because you do the same exact things every day. I can hear the
drrrrrrrrrr
of your right-hand desk drawer, so I know you’re putting away your thermal lunch bag. Now I hear steps. You’re walking to the file cabinet to get out lesson