Cheated Read Free Page A

Homeroom
    I headed straight for my locker, wondering if my lockermate, Aaron, would be there. I was supposed to share a locker with my ex-friend Garrett, but after this summer, those plans changed. Brody still had to share with Ben Rankin, one of his ex-teammates, so his locker was covered with Spirit Club streamers and balloons. I walked head down through halls ringing with wild laughter, flowing red crepe paper, and the sounds of happy couples laughing.
    My locker was bare. Aaron’s army surplus jacket sat on top of a stack of his magazines with video game cheat codes. I was surprised to see Aaron’s stuff after last night’s mix of rum, cola, and unexpected angry mood. I dropped off some books, so by the time I stepped through the doorway of Mr. Steinbach’s noisy homeroom, the bell had gone silent.
    â€œPlease be quiet for announcements,” Steinbach said to little reaction.
    I put my head down on my desk, closed my eyes, and made up my own announcements rather than listen to the endless list of clubs, events, and activities that touched my life not at all:
May I have your attention, please? Mick Salisbury would like to announce that he’s sorry about what he did to Nicole, he wants her back, and he wants her to know it wasn’t his fault. Mick also wants to announce that Roxanne Gray is a lying slut. Everybody have a great Dragon Day!
    I loved homeroom last year; that’s where I’d met Nicole. By the ninth day of ninth grade, I’d fallen for her. I remember how her long brown hair always fell in her face. I would see her in homeroom and long to reach over, brush it back, and see her brown eyes smile at me.
    I got her attention last year by doing fake announcements:
Your attention, please! The Chess Club challenges the Mathletes to a geek-off. The horn section of the Marching Band would like to tell the school: blow us. If you’ve ever wanted to see France, join the French Club. If you’d prefer to see Jackson State Prison, then please join Dave Wilson and the stoners after school behind the bleachers. Finally, for all seniors wanting to graduate this year, the teachers would like to say “Good riddance, you losers.” Now, have a great Dragon Day!
She’d laugh, even at the weaker, unfunny ones. What she was really laughing at, I thought, was how hard I was trying to impress her and make her like me.
    The only girl in this year’s homeroom that interested me above the belt was the one Brody called Cell Phone Girl. Even though we had two classes together last year and homeroom this year, I still didn’t even know her name. That fact said something, even if she never ever did. While I’m not one to volunteer to speak, I’d talk in class if the teacher called on me. But this girl never said a word to anyone, not teacher or student. The teachers rarely said anything to her, other than to tell her to put away her cell phone, which she never did for long. She used no makeup, had dirty blond hair that was either greasy or unwashed, and wore an oversized gray hooded sweatshirt. She’d put her head down onher desk, when Steinbach wasn’t looking, but somehow I could always see her peek at the phone buried in the sweatshirt’s pocket. Her best move was to transfer the cell phone from the pocket and bury it in the sleeve. She’d pull down the sleeve or nudge the phone out every five minutes or so, look all sad again, and then put her head back down on the desk. As isolated as I felt, especially after Nicole dumped me, I couldn’t imagine what was going on with Cell Phone Girl. I wanted to say to her,
Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help
.
    That morning, I was obsessed with wondering if people wondered about me. Were other people in homeroom thinking of things they’d like to say to me? Was Cell Phone Girl sitting there, in between phone peeks and sullen sighs, thinking, I wonder what’s going on with Mick Salisbury?