Cameron and the Girls by Edward Averett Page A

is in the back with a couple of her friends. When the bus starts moving, she quickly sneaks up and sits next to me. “Why is your teacher looking for you?” she says.
    â€œI don’t know. Ask her.”
    â€œThe vice principal called me today and wanted to know if I’d seen you.”
    â€œWhat do those freaks care, anyway?” I say, folding my arms at my chest.
    â€œMom called too. I had to talk pretty fast to keep her from getting hold of the sheriff. I guess you can’t go back to school until you have some meeting with them.”
    â€œI wish they’d just leave me alone,” I say.
    â€œThey will. Once you do exactly as they say. Look at me. They don’t even ask me about Dylan anymore. They think I’m being so obedient.”
    â€œI don’t want to do exactly what they want,” I say. But a bit of thunder unloads in the back of my head, and I steel myself for the inevitable.
    That’s the spirit, boy.
    Beth frowns but scoots to the back of the bus. When I turn to look, she’s jabbering with her friends again.
    Someone at the school must have seen me get on the bus, because Mom is waiting in her car at the stop. I can see her through the windshield; her lips are set in a line and her eyes are just staring. When Beth and I get off, Mom jumps out of the car and tries to block our way.
    The bus hisses off and Beth starts walking, but Mom and I just stand there like gunfighters, only I don’t feel like drawing first.
    â€œWasn’t the last time enough?” she says. “Wasn’t it bad enough for us all? I can’t believe you’re doing this to me again. Where were you?”
    But now I feel loose and free and walk around her. I don’t even turn around when I hear her get in the car and start it up. Pretty soon, it creeps along behind me, crunching the gravel. For a second, I think she’d rather run me down and be done with it, and that makes me sneak a peek. But she’s got her window rolled down and her arm out as she eases along.
    â€œWe can make this easier if you just get in,” she says.
    â€œNo,” I say, and realize I never knew how blessed a word it was before. I calculate how long it would take me to catch up to Beth, but she’s in hyperdrive and I’m starting to sweat.
    â€œCameron, even Dr. Simons says it’s better if we talk.”
    Too much talk and not enough action. You need this, boy. See how it worked with your teacher? You need to take your stand. Do what I say and it will all work out.
    I keep staring ahead, but I can’t resist saying, “You don’t really want to talk; you only want to order me around.”
    â€œCam, that’s not true. I’m only interested in what’s best for you.” When I don’t say anything, she says, “Cam? Cam? Do you want me to call the authorities to come get you?”
    After a second, the engine revs up and I hear some gravel shoot out from the tires. Pretty soon, Mom is moving up beside me.
    â€œCam? Talk to me.”
    â€œI’m not crazy,” I shout, scaring even myself. “Stop acting like I am. I’m just mad.”
    She guns it again and the car jerks ahead. About ten yards in front of me, she veers it to the left and cuts me off. I think she expects me to walk right up to the passenger door and get in. Meanwhile, up ahead, Beth stops and watches us.
    â€œYou’re more than just mad,” Mom says.
    Keep walking.
    It’s as if the car weren’t even there. It’s a little tricky with the backpack on, but I step on the bumper and lift myself up onto her hood. It bends and moans as I step across it and then jump down. Beth laughs and claps.
    I expect to hear the car as I start walking again, but it’s quiet back there. After another ten yards, I turn and see my mom with her head on her hand clutching the window well. I think if she’d just give up, it would all be easier. I walk carefully