Under the Bridge Read Free Page A

going to have to spend the week watching out for
retaliation, but it was worth it. She hummed softly as she sat in
the back of English Lit, smiling broadly when Carrie turned to give
her a death stare. Still smiling, she pulled out her battered
textbook and flipped it open to the current chapter.
    Tormenting Carrie made life worth living.
    It was a shame that she’d ended up in some of
the same core classes as Carrie. If she hadn’t been held back when
she was younger, if time hadn’t slipped away while she was
Underhill…well, that was life. What mattered was that she was
getting by with a solid C+. She figured if she could just maintain
the status quo, she’d be fine.
    Carrie, of course, was charming her way
through the course—literally. Not that it made her a favorite of
Mr. Duncan—he frowned suspiciously every time he was forced to hand
back a nearly perfect paper, but since he couldn’t catch her
cheating, there was nothing he could do. For her part, Carrie spent
most of her time texting, ignoring him.
    There was a new student in class today. He
sat up front, farthest from the door, and quietly looked around.
Billy couldn’t see his face, but his ashy blond hair looked…oh, off, as if it wanted to be something else.
    Frowning, Billy paid more attention, watching
the idle way his left hand tapped his desk. A ring flashed on his
forefinger, mesmerizing as it winked in the light. She blinked and
averted her eyes, then fixed them to the back of his head in sudden
suspicion. She was not close enough to smell him, but that didn’t
mean he wasn’t a troll.
    Mr. Duncan rolled his short, pudgy self up to
the podium, hiding his overflowing waistline behind the stout wood.
“Good morning, class. We have a new student today.” He looked at
the newcomer patronizingly. “I hope you know your Edgar Allan Poe,
Mr. Bergtagen.”
    “Ja. I know him,” the student said. Though
his German accent was distinct, his English was perfectly
understandable. “Mr. Poe and I are good friends.”
    The class laughed, and Mr. Duncan raised a
doubting brow. “Really? Perhaps you’d like to quote something from
him, then? What about a few lines from The Raven ?”
    “Should I stand?” the young man asked,
sounding amused.
    “Oh, why not?” Mr. Duncan folded his arms,
looking bored. “Amaze us.”
    Bergtagen stood. He wasn’t that tall, but
when he stood, the eye kept traveling up and up. His moves were
lazy, but purposeful; the coiled readiness of a predator. Spooky
green eyes with yellow bits betrayed a confidence beyond his years,
and he was unconcerned with the inspection of so many strangers. He
gazed at the ceiling at the back of the class as if gathering his
thoughts, then looked right at Carrie. He smiled like a serial
killer, and quote,
     
    Once upon a midnight dreary, while I
pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a
tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
and each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the
floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt
before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more.”
     
    His German accent flowed in hypnotic cadence,
lending an interest to the poem that Billy had never felt before.
Her short hairs pricked, and her chin came down, a