The Night Has Teeth Read Free Page A

flaunt my lack of
athleticism, so I stand up and pass it to the shadow in as manly a
way as I can: firmly and surely.
    “Thanks,” he says, switching to English. “Hey,
aren’t you in Berger’s psych class?”
    “Yeah,” I respond, surprised at being recognized.
I’ve always considered myself a blend-into-the-woodwork kind of
guy. Then I remember my epically embarrassing appearance in that
class earlier today. Who wouldn’t have noticed me?
    “I’m Josh.”
    I nod. “Connor.”
    He’s got that clean-cut look that you see in school
brochures. Everything about him screams all-star athlete, including
the blond-as-wheat hair and sky-blue eyes. He’s wearing a faded
blue T-shirt with what looks like a Canadian maple leaf in the
middle of a bull’s-eye. One of the guys in the group calls after
him. Something about a throw-in.
    “You play?” Josh asks, indicating the ball before
he tosses it expertly to his friend.
    “Uhh, not so much,” I stammer.
    “Not your game, hey?” he says casually.
    “Yeah, my games usually involve some sort of
controller.”
    He laughs and gestures over his shoulder at a group
lounging in the shade of a tree. “Why don’t you come hang with us?
I’ll introduce you to everyone — well, at least I’ll try. First
days, eh? Hard to keep track of all the new names.”
    I grunt noncommittally and, after gathering up my
things, I follow him across the lawn. As we approach, I get my
first glimpse of what looks to be a group of perfectly average
American teenagers, with one exception: a girl whose natural hair
color is obliterated by a blazing cherry red. When Josh rattles off
names, hers is the one I remember: Madison. I can’t seem to
reconcile it with her appearance. She’s got rebel written all over
her. At least in my books. It’s not just the dye job, but she’s
also got an eyebrow piercing and a general disregard of norms like
wearing matching socks. I can’t pinpoint her looks exactly, but I
know she’s multiracial by the almond shape of her eyes, the high
cheekbones, the sun-kissed skin. It’s as I’m staring that I notice
her hazel eyes are like a hawk’s. When they meet mine, I have to
look away.
    “So, where are you from?” Josh asks.
    I point to my American T-shirt but immediately
regret doing so as I remember the milk stain and the word Idiot next to it. Madison looks at
the logo with a smirk before returning to her book. In an attempt
to recover, I point to Josh’s T-shirt and say, “Let me guess,
Canada?”
    He grins appreciatively. I’ve met enough Canadian
tourists in New York City to know they don’t actually live in
igloos and punctuate all of their sentences with the word “eh.”
Tempted as I am to throw around some light-hearted jibes about how
they pronounce the word “about”, truth is it’s actually nice to be
speaking English, and I don’t want to balls-up my first opportunity
at making new friends. Instead, I plant myself on the lawn next to
Madison. She’s lying on her stomach, legs stretched out behind to
expose thigh-high stockings beneath a red mini kilt. One stocking
is red and the other is striped black and white. By the images on
the pages alone I can tell that she’s reading Lone Wolf and
Cub , one of my all-time
favorite graphic novels. All I want is to be able to say something
clever without coming off as too much of a geek, but all I can
focus on is the scent of vanilla wafting off her. While I stare at
the open book, thinking and taking a bite out of my flattened
sandwich, her eyes flash over me again.
    “Can you read Japanese?” she asks. “Or are you
just looking at the pretty pictures?”
    “I’ve, um, read it in English,” I reply feebly
between chews. “You’re at the part that sets up the whole story
arc. It’s pretty epic. One of the most influential manga series.
Ever.”
    When I point to a panel, my hand brushes against
hers. She stares at the point of contact like she’s going to burn
me with laser vision, so