Some Boys by Patty Blount EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Patty Blount
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Fiction on Sexual Abuse
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Grace
No Monday in history has ever sucked more than this one.
I’m kind of an expert on sucky days. It’s been thirty-two of them since
the party in the woods that started the battle I fight every day. I step onto the
bus to school, wearing my armor and pretending nothing’s wrong, nothing
happened, nothing changed when it’s pretty obvious nothing will ever be
the same again. Alyssa Martin, a girl I’ve known since first grade, smirks
and stretches her leg across the empty seat next to hers.
I approach slowly, hoping nobody can see my knees knocking. A couple
of weeks ago during a school newspaper staff meeting, Alyssa vowed her
support, and today I’m pond scum.
“Find a seat!” Mrs. Gannon, the bus driver, shouts.
I meet Alyssa’s eyes, silently beg her for sympathy—even a little pity.
She raises a middle finger. It’s a show of loyalty to someone who doesn’t
deserve it, a challenge to see how far I’ll go. My dad keeps telling me to
stand up to all of Zac’s defenders, but it’s the entire bus—the entire school
—versus me.
I gulp hard, and the bus lurches forward. I try to grab a seat back but lose
my balance and topple into the seat Alyssa’s blocking with her leg. She lets
out a screech of pain.
“Bitch,” she sneers. “You nearly broke my leg.”
I’m about to apologize when I notice the people sitting around us stare
with wide eyes and hands over their open mouths. When my eyes meet
theirs, they turn away, but nobody does anything.
This is weird.
Alyssa folds herself against the window and shoves earbuds into her ears
and ignores me for the duration of the ride.
The rest of the trip passes without incident—except for two girls
whispering over a video playing on a phone they both clutch in their hands.
One of them murmurs, “Six hundred and eighteen hits,” and shoots me a
dirty look.
I know exactly what she means and don’t want to think about it. I look
away. As soon as the bus stops, I’m off. On my way to my locker, most
people just ignore me, although a few still think they’ve come up with a
clever new insult. An elbow or the occasional extended foot still needs
dodging, but it’s really not that bad. I can deal. I can do this. I can make it
through school unless I see—
“Woof! Woof!”
My feet root themselves to the floor, and the breath clogs in my lungs.
And I know without turning who barked at me. I force myself to keep
walking instead of running for home, running for the next town. I want to
turn to look at him, look him dead in the eye, and twist my face into
something that shows contempt instead of the terror that too often wins
whenever I hear his name so he sees—so he knows—he didn’t beat me. But
that doesn’t happen.
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