Untethered by Katie Hayoz Read Free Book Online

wrong answer nine times (who’s counting?). In fact, the only right answer I give is to problem number 13, page 3. The one perk to my in-school out-of-body experience.
    Mr. Crawford’s class, where we answer music trivia and listen to classic rock instead of Geography lectures, should be fun but isn’t. I never get the trivia questions right to win a Twix bar. And then suddenly he gives us a pop quiz to see if we’ve been reading in our Geography book everything he hasn’t been teaching us — everything I haven’t been learning.
    Nelson’s the new model in Art, so I don’t even have him to talk to during class. He has to sit still on the stool, while we capture him from every angle. I draw the strong line of his jaw, the soft edge of his lips. As I shade in his eyes, something inside me stirs. He’s got thick lashes. Like Kevin’s. My mind wanders as I sketch and at the end of the period I realize I’ve drawn Kevin on the paper instead of Nelson. I smear the charcoal with the side of my fist before anyone can notice.
    The goose egg on my forehead seems to get worse each day. All shades of purple and yellow and red. Just when I’m thinking I’m going to live through to the end of its transformation, Tori Thompson catches me at my locker.
    “I think the bruise on your forehead is an improvement, Psycho. Takes people’s attention away from the rest of your hideous face.”
    I stare at the vents in my locker (why do lockers need vents, anyways? so the freshmen who get stuffed in them by seniors can breathe?) and say low and even, “Leave me alone, Tori.”
    She raises her eyebrows. “You’re telling me what to do?” Then she cackles down the hallway.
    Even the news from Dr. Hong sucks. My test results are inconclusive. “I was sure it was narcolepsy, Sylvie. All the signs pointed to it,” he says when I go to his office Thursday afternoon. “I think we have to re-explore the fact that this might be psychological.” At the look I give him, he shakes his head. “The brain is very complex .... Look, I want to get you back into the psychiatrist and the neurologist. For some more tests.”
    Luckily, there’s no room with either of them until Halloween.
    By the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I’m ready for the weekend.
    “Free at last! Free at last!” Cassie’s looking at her reflection in our locker mirror. She dabs a bit of lip gloss on her bottom lip and smears it around.
    I stick with Vaseline; with all my allergies, anything else makes my lips peel. I end up looking like my mouth is molting. Ugh.
    “I’m going out with Victor Moreno tonight. He said he’d take me to Milwaukee and we could sneak into the casino.” Cassie pulls a package of Sugar Babies out of her bag, pours a bunch into her mouth and slams the locker shut. “Why don’t you ask Kevin out and we could make it a double date?” she asks, mouth full.
    Hasn’t she noticed that Kevin has been undressing her with his eyes all week? “Uh ... Hello? He’s not interested, Cass.”
    She smacks her shiny lips together. “To be desirable you need to believe you are desirable.”
    “What’ve you been doing? Watching Oprah reruns?”
    From the way her face turns scarlet, that’s exactly what she’s been doing.
    I sigh. “Anyways, I’ve got to go to my dad’s.”
    “Oh, yeah.” She holds up the yellow bag of candy. “Sugar Baby?”
    I take some. “You really think your parents will let you go to Milwaukee?”
    She lifts an eyebrow at me. “They won’t even ask where I’m going.”
    Outside the building, we meet up with Sam. He’s chewing the skin around his fingernail again. His right thumb is bleeding.
    “Come on, Sam. That’s gross. If you’re hungry eat a sandwich.” I pull a wadded up bunch of Kleenex from my backpack and hand it to him. “Stop the bleeding.”
    Sam wraps his thumb, but doesn’t say anything most of the way home. When we’re on our street, he finally opens his mouth. “It’s gonna be weird.