Cracked Up to Be Read Free

wasn’t a snap.”
    He says something else, but I don’t hear it because I’m gone. I drop my things at my locker and search out a spot in school that isn’t around people, but there are none and that’s when I notice that the halls are way too crowded.
    There are bodies everywhere.
    At first I do okay. I hover by the drinking fountain and try to look like I’ve got somewhere to be. Then I start hearing this sound, like this sighing, no—not sighing. Breathing . Everyone breathing. I can hear the people around me sucking up all the fresh air, leaving nothing for me.
    My chest tightens and I can’t breathe.
    “I can’t breathe.”
    I scare the hell out of the school nurse. He darts up from his chair and makes a big fuss while I try to explain the problem.
    “I can’t breathe. The air in here is too stale. . . . No, my chest feels fine. Yes, I can feel my left arm. . . . Make them open some windows; they’re using up all the air. . . .”
    He doesn’t get it, but he directs me to a cot at the back of the room anyway. No one else is sick today, so I get a little peace and quiet. I lie on my back and scan the shelves across the room for a bottle of ipecac, but no such luck.
    I close my eyes.
    When I open them again, it’s last period and I’m in English and Becky is freaking out and flipping through her binder while Lerner looks on. I don’t know what she’s so worried about; she’s golden. She never misses an essay and Lerner likes her. He’s even saying, “No worries, Halprin, just get it to me by the end of the week—”
    “But you don’t understand, sir; I did the essay! I had it! It was here! ”
    “I’m sure it will turn up,” he tells her soothingly. “Just make sure you hand it in by Friday. . . .”
    Becky looks like she’s going to cry. Lerner moves on to me.
    “I don’t even have to ask, do I, Fadley?”
    Lerner likes me, too. Not as much as he used to. What I like best about Lerner is he’s been teaching so long, he doesn’t waste time. He readjusted his expectations of me immediately after the first time I got wasted and fell out of my chair in class.
    “I think you should,” I say, smiling. “Go on, ask.”
    His mustache twitches. “Well, I’m afraid to now.”
    Becky’s mouth drops open as I make a show out of taking the essay from my binder and handing it to Lerner. He stares at it, and then me, and for a second I wonder if he knows it’s Becky’s. But then he tucks it away with the other papers he’s collected and it’s good. Only I hope he doesn’t do any expectation readjusting after this because then I’ll have to disappoint him.
    Becky gapes at me, still teary eyed.
    “When the fuck did you do that essay?”
    “History, lunch. I’ll take my fifty dollars now, please.”
    “I was joking, Parker. The bet was a joke .”
    But I won’t let it be a joke, so when the last bell, finally, mercifully, rings , I chase after her down the hall, screaming her name.
    “Becky! Hey, Becky! Becky Halprin !”
    She pauses, stuck. At one end of the hall, her posse—my old posse—and at the other end, me. She thinks about it for a minute, sighs and heads in my direction.
    “What?”
    “What time’s your date with Chris on Friday?”
    She blushes.
    “He’s picking me up at six.”
    “Do you still have that pink sweater? The one that’s supertight across the chest? You should wear that, he’d like it.” She looks all disgusted because she’s too stupid to realize I’m helping her out.
    “Uh.” She blinks. “Okay. Thanks. I think.”
    “No problem.” I pause. “Hey, if you’d won the bet, would it still have been a joke?”
    “Becky, come on ,” someone whines behind us. I glance down the hall. Sandra Morrison is tapping her foot impatiently and giving me a look of utter disdain, which is pretty amazing considering she wouldn’t have dared to do it when I was the one leading her around by the nose. Becky sighs and briefly closes her eyes before