The Greyhound by John Cooper Read Free Book Online Page B

saying I can’t have coffee. I can’t take a lot of it anyway and I have to put a lot of cream and sugar into it, so it’s not like it’s an espresso or anything like that. Ben can drink espresso. They have a new doughnut there, too. But that’s not why Ben and I go there.
    The girl behind the counter is hot, maybe hotter than the shrink’s daughter. Her name is Nicole. She’s in my history, civics, and English classes. She smiled at me the other day. If anybody reads this — and I mean you Susan — I’ll kill them. I want to ask her out. I don’t know what she would say. But she smiled at me at Tim Hortons so I talked to her. Nothin’ much, just about history class. And what happened in the cafeteria. “Did you see that fight in the cafeteria?” I asked. She acted sort of interested but I think she did that to indulge me. I’m going to go back again and see if maybe I can talk to her about something halfway intelligent. Like, “did you finish reading Hanna’s Suitcase ? What did you think about it?” But then maybe she’ll think I’m a freak or something.
    Ben’s cool. He doesn’t talk to anybody, or say much, but then he’s still nervous cuz his English is still not okay. But he smiles at a couple of the girls — but then that’s cuz they smile at him first.
    ANOTHER VISIT WITH DR. FEINMAN
    “Are you still keeping a diary?” Feinman’s question poked its way into Danny’s head, like a finger going into the jelly that he felt his brain had turned into.
    “Yeah, I’m keeping it. I don’t know why though.”
    “Why? Because it’s important for you to get your feelings into a form that you can control. You can control the printed word — you create the text and you can alter it. It’s all yours!”
    “Yeah, so what should I write about?”
    “Things that you’re worried about, or things that have happened that you need to think about.”
    “Like, the fact that I beat someone up at my old school? That I’m angry with my parents? Angry at my dad’s behaviour?”
    “Sure, why not? But don’t just write it down, think it down — and think about ways that you can take that anger and make it into something good.”
    Danny thought for a minute. He thought about hearing some jerk at school saying something about his dad, something like, “How’s that burnt-out old goddamn freak of an old man of yours, D-minus ?” Danny wouldn’t normally have reacted — for some reason it was cool to dump on parents, at least with some of the kids. But he couldn’t take it. This kid had been bugging him for weeks. Some off-handed remark that Danny had made in science class, or history class, or somewhere ( I just can’t remember where ) to this kid had gotten him primed for action, and his stupid scratchy voice haunted Danny in the school hallways. It was just such a nothing comment , Danny thought. What was he so upset about? I can’t even remember what it was that I said to him . Anyway, whatever it was had set this kid off, and every time they passed each other, he would make a dumb, loud, dopey, stupid comment to Danny. Finally, it had taken a comment about his Dad to really get Danny angry. The comment sliced like a burning-hot knife into Danny’s conscience, a blade thrust plunged deep into him, and Danny just couldn’t — he just wouldn’t — take it. He turned and hammered his fist into the kid’s nose.
    Blood gushed and Danny’s knuckles were crimson and wet, but the kid came back for more. Though he was a good three inches taller than Danny, he was no match for his strength. Danny slammed him against the lockers, and then brought in a left cross that sent his nose in an unnatural direction, breaking it. The kid tried a weak jab at Danny’s face, and a heavy ring on his right hand had grazed Danny’s cheek, but he’d run out of energy by then. Danny gave him a quick shot to the ribs — it surprised him that they were springy, like they were made of some kind of plastic — and the