Counting to D Read Free

anyway, like everything was suddenly okay. “A history lesson sounds great.”
    My stomach flip-flopped as I walked into Kennedy High. In San Diego the school had been open, with lots of portable buildings and outside corridors. Portland was gray and rainy, and the fully enclosed brick building they called a high school had matching gray industrial carpeting.
    I found my first-period class — AP US History — and slumped into a seat in the back row. Thanks to Mom’s and my listening marathon in the moving truck, I was good to go all the way up to the Wilson Administration. When Ms. Johnson started lecturing on the Reconstruction Era, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I was four chapters ahead of the syllabus. Maybe passing my classes wouldn’t be completely impossible. I spent the period stressing about my lack of a social life instead.
    I’d never been even remotely popular. Gabby and Arden accepted me, but nobody else in San Diego had. I wondered if I’d make any friends at all here. I couldn’t imagine who would want to be friends with me. I wasn’t a jock or a musician. Mom’s eighteen months of unemployment meant I didn’t have the most fashionable clothes. I was a world-class math nerd, but I seriously doubted advertising that would help me make friends.
    Next up was AP Calculus. I didn’t want to run out and captain the mathletes again, but I still loved the consistency of numbers. Instead of paying attention to the lecture, I spent the hour studying the other kids. There were forty-two students in the room — quite a crowd. Either Kennedy High had an exceptional math program or there was only one unit of calc. I recognized a lot of people from my history class, and a few even nodded at me, but nobody said anything. They were all too busy taking notes — like math lectures were something to actually listen to.
    When I walked into AP Physics, I vowed to put an end to my mute status. This class was a lot smaller than calc, only nineteen students, and by now all the faces looked familiar. Having the same students in all my classes had to be a good thing. These kids were all smart. They’d want to be my friends, right?
    Students leaned against black lab tables, talking and scribbling in notebooks. A handful of geeky-looking guys clustered near the door discussing Fortran. I slid past them and headed for a girl sitting alone at one of the lab tables. She wore tattered jeans and a bright orange T-shirt that said KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD. Blond hair streaked with blue hung over her face, which was buried in a book with a planetary scene on the cover. In normal situations, blue hair would have intimidated the crap out of me, but she was one of only four girls in AP Physics, and she was reading science fiction. How bad could she be?
    “Hi.” My voice caught in my throat, but I pushed past it. “Can I sit here?”
    She pulled her backpack off the table, dropping it onto the floor. “Sure.” She tossed her paperback down next to her bag and ran her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her bright blue eyes. The only makeup she had on was dark eyeliner, and I noticed a small silver ring that pierced her left eyebrow.
    I slid onto the empty stool. My stomach twisted, and I wondered if I should have introduced myself to the Fortran boys instead. I knew a little C++. Maybe they’d accept me.
    “I’m Lissa, by the way,” she said.
    “Sam.”
    “So, Sam, where are you from?” Her question was casual, like us talking was totally normal. It somehow made me feel even more nervous.
    “Um, San Diego.”
    “God, that’s gotta suck moving here, leaving seventy-degree Februaries for Portland’s beautiful liquid sunshine.”
    I shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Moving to Portland did suck, but the weather wasn’t the problem. The problem was that my best friends were both back in San Diego, and the only person I’d talked to in this town had blue hair and facial jewelry.
    The