The Bullet List (The Saving Bailey Trilogy, #1) Read Free Page B

can only tell you how it is.” He shrugs.
    We exit the math hallway and make our way to the main staircase. The bell will ring for next period soon and we figure we can wait outside the door to our next class until then.
    “Hey, I never realized this, but you have far too many classes with me,” I say.
    “It’s like I did it on purpose or something,” Clad suggests jokingly.
    The science room is stinking up the entire sophomore hallway with the smell of preserved pig carcasses.
    “I don’t get it,” Clad says. “We’re not butchers. This is science class, so then why are we handling dead pigs?” he says, trying to be funny.
    I’m not entertained. The stench is wreaking havoc on my nose, and I’m overcome with a fit of coughing. Clad tries to stifle his laughter.
    “I’m gonna throw up if I have to even see a dead baby pig, let alone dissect one!” I manage to cough out.
    “You’ve got a weak stomach, kid,” Mr. Wiggan comments as he opens the door to let us in. I hadn’t seen him coming down the hallway.
    “Yeah I do,” I admit.
    I find a desk far from the carcasses of the dead swine, but no desk is far enough to escape the foul air. Clad sits next to me up front, reluctantly, because he dislikes sitting close to the teacher.
    “He won’t bite,” I say.
    “It’s not him I’m worried about.” Clad giggles and pushes me.
    “You’re a riot,” I say back.
    Half the class is missing when the tardy bell rings. Apparently the idea of dissecting dead baby animals is not very appealing to anybody.
    “I guess everyone is trying to avoid you. Sorry baby,” Mr. Wiggan says, patting the back of one of the pigs. “Don’t take it to heart. If it makes you feel any better, I still think you’re cute.”
    I can’t figure out what is creepier, Mr. Wiggan talking to a dead pig, or that he considers it cute. “Okay enough of that,” he says, breaking his chat with the piglet.
    “Team up into groups of five please,” he says as more of a suggestion than a command.
    “You and me?” Clad asks, pointing between us.
    “Not a chance in hell,” I mutter.
    “What did you say?” he asks.
    “I said yeah that would be swell.” It’s hard not to tease Clad. We have been friends for as long as I can remember, as far back as kindergarten. He has made it very obvious on more than one occasion that he is attracted to me. It’s not that I don’t like him, nor is it that he’s unattractive. I actually quite like his lively green eyes and almond-brown hair. The six-pack doesn’t hurt either. But right now I cannot imagine being anything more than friends with him because we are as close as a brother and a sister
    “Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks suddenly.
    I snap out of it. “I’m just spacing out. Okay, you can be in my group,” I say.
    He snickers, “I don’t think you have a choice. Everyone else skipped out on you.”
    My smile fades. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I shudder beneath his touch.
    “You intimidate them,” he says in an effort to comfort me.
    His gentle squeeze of my shoulder feels wrong. Like he has stepped over a line.
    I want to tell him not to touch me again. However, if I do, I run the risk of upsetting him.
    “Leggo,” I say. “There’s a baby pig with your name on it back there!”
    When we get back to the lab tables, everyone is already well into the dissection process. Some of them have finished the required dissecting, and have resorted to poking the pig’s eye out of boredom. Don’t gag, don’t breath through your nose , I repeat over and over again in my head. Luckily, Clad is into to the whole dissecting thing and digs right in.
    “Let’s name him Bacon,” he suggests.
    I nod. “That’s a nice name,” I say.
    Clad, hands me a scalpel, and I instantly drop it. I use my bandaged hands as an excuse to skip the dissection. I let Clad finish up while I lay my head on the desk and concentrate on not throwing up.
    Somehow I fall asleep. I dream