Slide Read Free Page A

stick my finger in the book to hold my place and tilt my head up, annoyed by the interruption.
    A familiar voice floats down to where I’m sitting. It makes me want to puke.
    Scotch.
    They sit down above me, and I hear another guy’s voice. “Dude, you have to check this out.” His tone is conspiratorial, like he’s got some drugs or a Penthouse magazine.
    Quietly, I stuff my book into my backpack. Maybe I can sneak away without them noticing me.
    “What is this? Where did you get this?” I hear Scotch ask.
    “One of the cheerleaders sent it out this morning. Hey. Didn’t you bang this chick?”
    Scotch snorts. “Yeah, once.”
    Feeling like I’m going to be sick, I crawl toward the opening beneath the bleachers. Something sharp slices into my knee, and it takes everything in me to stifle my yelp of pain. When I look down, I realize I’ve cut myself on a broken Budweiser bottle. My jeans are torn, and blood oozes through the opening. I bite my lip and move toward the exit.
    After emerging from my hiding spot, I risk one quick backward glance. Scotch and another football player are both staring down at a cell phone, smirking. My heart clenches for the poor girl they’re discussing, whoever she is.
    In the bathroom, I clutch a wad of paper towels to my knee, but the blood doesn’t seem to be slowing. Though I’ve been avoiding the school nurse, it’s clear I’ll have to stop by her office. The beer bottle wasn’t exactly clean, and she’ll have some antiseptic cream to smooth on the wound.
    Mrs. Price is sitting at her desk, rifling through papers, when I arrive. Her gray hair is falling out of a loose bun, and she’s wearing these glasses on a chain that make her look more like a librarian than a school nurse. She’s so engrossed in her work, she doesn’t even notice me come in.
    A boy I’ve never seen before sits in a folding chair in the corner. He looks me up and down, his gaze pausing on the bloody paper towels I’m holding, making me feel suddenly self-conscious. He doesn’t look like the type of guy who goes for chicks with pink hair. In fact, with his perfectly tousled blond hair and green T-shirt stretched tight over his biceps, he looks like the type of guy who dates girls who resemble Victoria’s Secret models. Still, he sits there smiling as if he knows me or something.
    “Uh,” I say.
    Mrs. Price looks up, her eyebrows jumping when she spots the blood. “Vee! Another accident?”
    “No biggie,” I mutter, avoiding eye contact with the guy. “It’s a shallow cut. Just needs to be cleaned.”
    Mrs. Price frowns and pushes back her chair. She glides over to me and stoops down to examine my wound. “Did you get this during another episode, Vee?”
    “No,” I say, shaking my hair over my face so she won’t notice the bump. If she finds out I’ve been passing out, she’ll have to call my father and he’ll have to call my doctors and they’ll ask about the Provigil and the whole thing will be a big pain in my ass.
    Mrs. Price pulls on some latex gloves and tells me to sit down and pull up my pant leg. She wipes my knee with an alcohol pad, dabs on some Neosporin, and then wraps it with a clean bandage. The whole time, I am intensely aware of the hot guy staring at my bare leg.
    Mrs. Price strips off her gloves and tosses them into the trash. She stands and looks at the guy. “All your records seem to be in order, Zane. What class do you have now? Vee here can show you the way. Sylvia, this is Zane Huxley. This is his first day.”
    The guy steps forward and shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you.” He pulls a crinkled paper from his pocket and squints at it. “I’ve got AP psych with Golden.”
    “Oh, good.” Mrs. Price claps her hands. “That’s where you’re going. Right, Vee?”
    “Um, yeah.”
    As we walk to Mr. Golden’s room, I keep my eyes straight ahead, though I can feel Zane’s eyes on me.
    “So, Sylvia. Got any advice for the newb in town? Cool places to hang