Stained Read Free Page A

“Maybe later.”
    Nick blinks, his gentle puppy-dog eyes huge behind his glasses. “Okay,” he says fast, and turns away.
    I know that move. I’ve done it so many times myself, trying not to let people see I’m hurt. “Wait!”
    Nick turns back to me.
    â€œYou show your comics to Mr. Simmons yet?”
    â€œNo,” Nick says.
    â€œYou should! They’re way better than anything anyone around here can do. It would give you some cred, you know? Make those bozos see how talented you are.”
    â€œI don’t need them to see that,” Nick says, smiling sadly, like he is so much older than me, or wiser somehow. But he needs to feel accepted just as much as I do.
    I know what it’s like to care about something so much that you feel like you’ll shatter if anyone criticizes it. That’s how I feel about my comic-book writing. Nick is the only one who’s ever read any of my scripts, and that was by accident. A page fell out of my notebook, and Nick picked it up and read the whole thing before giving it back. I was so scared I hardly heard him tell me how good it was, and how much he liked Diamond. I want to show him more, but I can never quite make myself.
    So I guess I should understand. But Nick has more talent than most of the kids at school. Someday he’s going to be really well known for his comics, while most of our classmates will work day jobs they hate. “Why not? Maybe they’d leave you alone.”
    â€œYou know they wouldn’t. They’d still tease me just as much,” Nick says quietly. “Maybe even more. And if you want me to share my art, you have to share your writing.”
    I wince.
    Nick laughs. “Exactly. Listen—you want to go to the comic store after school, get some hot chocolate on the way?” His eyes are bright with hope. I don’t know how he can keep asking when I keep refusing him.
    I bite my lip. “I can’t; not today. Stuff at home.” Which is true. But I always have an excuse.
    Nick looks at me, a funny expression on his face. “You’re not like them, you know,” he says, nodding toward the clumps of students snickering at us. “You’re better. Someday you’ll realize that.”
    I stare at him, not knowing what to say.
    Nick gives me another sad smile, and I feel like I’ve let him down somehow. He walks away and doesn’t look back.
    Charlene’s standing by the chainlink fence, waving to me with jerky, exaggerated motions, her breasts and stomach jiggling. I stride over, drop my backpack to the ground, and lean up against the fence beside her, the metal diamonds pressing into my back, even through my coat.
    â€œI thought you weren’t coming in until later?” she says.
    â€œChange of plans.”
    Charlene waits, but I can’t talk about it, not right now.
    â€œWell, I’ve got something for you.” She presses a flat, tissue-wrapped rectangle into my hand. “It’s for after your treatments.”
    I tear off the tissue paper. It’s a heavy silver rectangle with a Manga girl on the cover saying, “Who’s the most beautiful girl in the world? Look inside!” I know, even before I lift the cover, that it is a mirror. I slap the cover back down fast, but not before I get a glimpse of the purple-red stain that distorts my face.
    â€œThank you,” I say, in a too-bright voice like my mom’s. “It’s perfect.”

NICK
    8:29 A.M.
    Â 
    I KNOW SARAH DOESN’T
like
-like me, but that doesn’t stop me from trying to get her to notice me. To
see
me. Like that will ever happen.
    I’m like Clark Kent without the secret hero identity going on. Easily pushed around, easily ignored. But Sarah’s my Lois Lane. She’s got such guts, facing her tormenters day after day, staring them down, never letting them see they’re getting to her.
    And she’s classy. She doesn’t cower