The Boy Who Killed Grant Parker by Kat Spears Read Free Book Online Page B

rock.”
    â€œSure,” she said. “I wasn’t judging you.”
    She watched me for a long minute, long enough that I grew uncomfortable and had to focus all of my attention on the task at hand to avoid feeling awkward. The silence didn’t seem to bother her at all.
    â€œWell,” she said as she pushed herself up to a standing position in one fluid motion. “Guess I’ll see you around.”
    â€œYeah, sure,” I said, but she was already walking away. When she looked back over her shoulder, she caught me watching her retreating form intently. Not because her baggy sweatshirt revealed anything of interest to watch. More like I was still trying to figure out if our conversation had been friendly or antagonistic. Either way, she caught my stare but ignored me and kept walking at the same languid pace.

 
    8
    The second week of school started out better than the first. Now I had a job, a car, and someone to sit with at lunch, even though the job didn’t pay, the car didn’t run, and Don wasn’t really my first choice for a friend. Maybe not even a close third.
    That Monday was also the day I met Grant Parker. I had seen him around campus, and we shared fifth-period American History. I was always on the lookout for Penny and her golden head of hair, and I usually saw her walking arm in arm with Grant or hanging around his locker. Before that day, Grant hadn’t seemed to take any notice of me, even though I had physically assaulted his team’s mascot.
    I was sitting with Don and the dork squad when Grant stopped at our lunch table. It was almost like an afterthought, as if it just occurred to him that maybe it would be mildly entertaining to make our social status a little bit more painful. Grant had a buddy with him, a dark-haired guy who kept quiet and let Grant keep all the limelight for himself.
    â€œHey, Don,” Grant said through a smirk. “Great haircut. Did your mom do that for you at home?”
    Don’s expression was one of weary resignation. This was a chore he had to face and was resigned to it even though it was a pain in the ass.
    â€œYeah, Grant,” Don said. “She did.”
    â€œNice,” Grant said with a nod. “I thought so.” Unable to get much of a reaction out of Don, Grant lost interest in him and turned his attention to me. Grant gave a slight roll of his eyes, quick and subtle so that I was the only one who saw it. He made it seem like we were sharing a private joke, an allegiance, at Don’s expense. It gave me a warm feeling in my chest. With that subtle gesture Grant was acknowledging that Don was a total dork, but I wasn’t like Don. I was different. Better.
    â€œHey, so you’re the new kid in town, huh?” Grant said with a lazy smile as he extended a hand for me to shake. “I like that move you pulled with Willie,” he said, as if my epic humiliation had been intentional, as if I had planned and executed a comical sparring routine with the wildcat and had somehow come out the winner.
    â€œI’m Grant. Grant Parker,” he said. “I’m the president of the student council, so I wanted to welcome you to Ashland.”
    Grant was standing so close to the table I had to bend my neck at an uncomfortable angle to really see him.
    â€œUh…” My voice came out as a squeaky gargle. I quickly cleared my throat, but the damage was done: the impression was there that I was self-conscious and weak. “I’m Luke Grayson.”
    â€œGood to meet you, Luke,” Grant said with such warmth that I marveled again at how these southern, small-town people seemed to emerge from the womb with charm and manners to spare. “This is my buddy, Tony Hurst.” A moment of awkward silence passed as Tony sized me up like a piece of livestock. He did not greet me with the same warmth Grant had, just stood in stony silence with one hand slung in his jeans pocket and favored