then he went on-word, wet sniffle, word, um, um, word, wipe nose on sleeve, word, uh, um, word…
A craving came over Anthony, like hunger, like thirst, like the need to piss first thing in the morning.
He wanted a doobie. He could almost taste it, the thick smoke in his lungs, the world becoming just a little bit nicer.
He glanced at the clock again. Only three minutes had passed. Get a bathroom pass, he told himself. Mike or Gregg might be in the can. Or at least somebody who could give him a toke. He didn’t need a lot. Just enough to take the edge off… so blood wouldn’t come gushing out of his ears after his brain imploded, which was sort of what it felt like was happening. Anthony started to raise his hand, then lowered it and gripped the side of his desk until his fingers ached. If he let himself get a little buzz to get through the day today, then he’d be back to getting high all the time. And that was not the best way of getting out of this friggin’ place for good. He wanted to graduate, and he was barely making it through his Bluebird classes pot free.
In that book Rae was talking about, was there really a way that Stop, he told himself. Remember fourth grade – getting on the moron bus, going to that place where all everyone wanted to do was help little Tony?
Freaks couldn’t even get his name right. And the crap they made him do-it just made him feel even stupider.
And then there was the seventh grade. Mr. Leary.
Discipline means a disciplined mind. He couldn’t breathe in that guy’s room without getting the dictionary treatment-standing in front of the class, arms out, with a massive dictionary balanced on each palm until his muscles quivered, until he had to drop the books no matter what Leary said. Friggin’ Leary.
Anthony’s skin started to get hot. Hot and itchy.
He could feel each spot where a hair connected to his skin. If he didn’t get out of hereJesse. Think about Jesse, Anthony ordered himself. What could the deal be? He and Rae had talked to a bunch more people in Little Five Points yesterday. Some of them had seen Jesse. But all of them had a different story about what happened, just like the first few people they’d talked to. What could that mean? Some kind of drugs in one of the coffee bars in the area? A blast from an alien mind-altering laser beam after Jesse was abducted? Hypnosis? Mass hysteria?
Anthony knew his theories were getting way out of control. But the whole situation was insane.
There has to be an explanation, he told himself. But he had no freaking idea what. And why? Because he was so friggin’ stupid. How was he supposed to get Jesse back when he could hardly read two words in a row and basic math problems made his head turn inside out?
Cut it out, Anthony ordered himself. He hated it when he started getting all snively and self-pitying.
Okay. Jesse. An image of the kid flashed into his mind, followed almost immediately by an image of Rae, her face pale and scared.
Somebody tries to kill Rae, he thought. Then Jesse disappears. Could there possibly be a connection?
What did Rae and Jesse have in common? They both were in group therapy at Oakvale. What else? They’d both helped clear Anthony of setting the pipe bomb.
Which meant they’d both helped put David Wyngard away. So, some kind of revenge thing? But with all those people involved? It made no sense. It “Anthony, do you remember?” Ms. Goyer asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Without looking at the magazine, can you tell me what the name of their youngest son is?”
“Uh, Booger?” Anthony answered, because he had no idea. It was a totally lame joke, but the Bluebirds laughed anyway. They were probably all bored out of their skulls.
“No,” Goyer answered, with her usual poor learning-disabled-child smile. “Want to try again?
I’ll give you a hint. It has nothing to do with bodily functions.”
“I know,” Andi McGee volunteered. She lived to volunteer answers, even
A craving came over Anthony, like hunger, like thirst, like the need to piss first thing in the morning.
He wanted a doobie. He could almost taste it, the thick smoke in his lungs, the world becoming just a little bit nicer.
He glanced at the clock again. Only three minutes had passed. Get a bathroom pass, he told himself. Mike or Gregg might be in the can. Or at least somebody who could give him a toke. He didn’t need a lot. Just enough to take the edge off… so blood wouldn’t come gushing out of his ears after his brain imploded, which was sort of what it felt like was happening. Anthony started to raise his hand, then lowered it and gripped the side of his desk until his fingers ached. If he let himself get a little buzz to get through the day today, then he’d be back to getting high all the time. And that was not the best way of getting out of this friggin’ place for good. He wanted to graduate, and he was barely making it through his Bluebird classes pot free.
In that book Rae was talking about, was there really a way that Stop, he told himself. Remember fourth grade – getting on the moron bus, going to that place where all everyone wanted to do was help little Tony?
Freaks couldn’t even get his name right. And the crap they made him do-it just made him feel even stupider.
And then there was the seventh grade. Mr. Leary.
Discipline means a disciplined mind. He couldn’t breathe in that guy’s room without getting the dictionary treatment-standing in front of the class, arms out, with a massive dictionary balanced on each palm until his muscles quivered, until he had to drop the books no matter what Leary said. Friggin’ Leary.
Anthony’s skin started to get hot. Hot and itchy.
He could feel each spot where a hair connected to his skin. If he didn’t get out of hereJesse. Think about Jesse, Anthony ordered himself. What could the deal be? He and Rae had talked to a bunch more people in Little Five Points yesterday. Some of them had seen Jesse. But all of them had a different story about what happened, just like the first few people they’d talked to. What could that mean? Some kind of drugs in one of the coffee bars in the area? A blast from an alien mind-altering laser beam after Jesse was abducted? Hypnosis? Mass hysteria?
Anthony knew his theories were getting way out of control. But the whole situation was insane.
There has to be an explanation, he told himself. But he had no freaking idea what. And why? Because he was so friggin’ stupid. How was he supposed to get Jesse back when he could hardly read two words in a row and basic math problems made his head turn inside out?
Cut it out, Anthony ordered himself. He hated it when he started getting all snively and self-pitying.
Okay. Jesse. An image of the kid flashed into his mind, followed almost immediately by an image of Rae, her face pale and scared.
Somebody tries to kill Rae, he thought. Then Jesse disappears. Could there possibly be a connection?
What did Rae and Jesse have in common? They both were in group therapy at Oakvale. What else? They’d both helped clear Anthony of setting the pipe bomb.
Which meant they’d both helped put David Wyngard away. So, some kind of revenge thing? But with all those people involved? It made no sense. It “Anthony, do you remember?” Ms. Goyer asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Without looking at the magazine, can you tell me what the name of their youngest son is?”
“Uh, Booger?” Anthony answered, because he had no idea. It was a totally lame joke, but the Bluebirds laughed anyway. They were probably all bored out of their skulls.
“No,” Goyer answered, with her usual poor learning-disabled-child smile. “Want to try again?
I’ll give you a hint. It has nothing to do with bodily functions.”
“I know,” Andi McGee volunteered. She lived to volunteer answers, even
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