The Journal of Curious Letters (The 13th Reality #1) Read Free

so he could only see the dirty white tiles of the hallway. The bell ending the school day had rung ages ago and Tick knew that by now most of the students would be outside, waiting for their buses or already walking home. A few stragglers still roamed the hallways, though, and one of them stopped in front of Tick’s jail cell, snickering.
    “Hope you get out before suppertime, Icky Ticky Stinkbottom,” the boy said. Then he kicked the locker, sending a terrible bang of rattled metal echoing through Tick’s ears. “The Goat sent me to make sure you hadn’t escaped yet—good thing you’re still in there. I can see your beady little eyes.” Another kick. “You’re not crying are you? Careful, you might get snot on your Barf Scarf.”
    Tick squeezed his eyes shut, steeled himself to ignore the idiot. Eventually, the bullies always moved on if he just stayed silent. Talking back, on the other hand . . .
    The boy laughed again, then walked away.
    In fact, Tick was not crying and hadn’t done so in a long time. Once he’d learned to accept his fate in life as the kid everyone liked to pick on, his life had become a whole lot easier. Although Tick’s attitude seemed to annoy Billy to no end. Maybe I should fake a cry next time, Tick thought. Make the Goat feel like a big bad king.
    When the hall had grown completely still and silent, Tick reached down and flicked the latch of the door. It swung open with a loud pop and slammed against the locker next to it. Tick stepped out and stretched his cramped legs and arms. He couldn’t have cared less about Billy and his gang of dumb bullies right then—it was Friday, his mom and dad had bought him the latest gaming system for his thirteenth birthday, and the Thanksgiving holidays were just around the corner. He felt perfectly happy.
    Glancing around to make sure no one had hung around to torture him some more, Tick adjusted the red-and-black striped scarf he always wore to hide the hideous purple blotch on his neck—an irregular, rusty-looking birthmark the size of a drink coaster. It was the one thing he hated most about his body, and no matter how much his parents tried to convince him to lose the scarf, he wore it every hour of every day—even in the summer, sweat soaking through in dark blotches. Now, with winter settling in with a vengeance, people had quit giving him strange looks about the security blanket wrapped around his neck. Well, except for the jerks who called it the Barf Scarf.
    He set out down the hall, heading for the door closest to the street that led to his house; he lived within walking distance of the school, which was lucky for him because the buses were long gone. He rounded the corner and saw Mr. Chu, his science teacher, step out of the teacher’s lounge, briefcase in hand.
    “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Higginbottom,” the lanky man said, a huge smile on his face. “What are you still doing around here? Anxious for more homework?” His straight black hair fell almost to his shoulders. Tick knew his mom would say Mr. Chu needed a haircut, but Tick thought he looked cool.
    Tick gave a quick laugh. “No, I think you gave us plenty—I’ll be lucky to get half of it done by Monday.”
    “Hmmm,” Mr. Chu replied. He reached out and swatted Tick on the back. “If I know you, it was done by the end of lunchtime today.”
    Tick swallowed, for some reason embarrassed to admit his teacher was exactly right. So, I’m a nerd, he thought. One day it’ll make me filthy dirty rotten rich. Tick was grateful that at least he didn’t really look the part of a brainy nerd. His brown hair wasn’t greasy; he didn’t wear glasses; he had a solid build. His only real blemish was the birthmark. And maybe the fact that he was as clumsy as a one-legged drunk. But, as his dad always said, he was no different from any other kid his age and would grow out of the clumsiness in a few years.
    Whatever the reason, Tick just didn’t get along with people his own age.