Somewhere Over the Freaking Rainbow - By L.L. Muir Page 0,8
well be standing on a desk waving his arms.
Jamison nodded and walked to the empty seat, but his eye caught a blur of white at the back of the room. He wanted to see if it was Skye, but his butt was already lowering into the chair. He’d look stupid if he dropped a pencil, wouldn’t he?
“We’re reading Lost Horizon. It shouldn’t take you too long to catch up to the rest of the class since I’m sure they’re all behind schedule.”
“I’ve already read it.” Jamison realized too late that he should have kept his mouth shut. What was it about having that chick around that made him so chatty?
Mr. Evan’s rolled his eyes above his bifocals. “It’s rare to find such a well-read football player, Mr. Shaw—”
“I don’t play football. Sir.”
Already? He was used to the questions, knew exactly what was coming, but he thought Coloradoans wouldn’t be nearly as obsessed with the sport as Texans were. He hadn’t expected to be cornered until gym class.
“But you’re from—”
“Texas, sir. Yes, I know.”
A student snorted.
“But you’re so—”
“Built for it, sir? Yes, I am.” He went on while Mr. Evans concentrated very hard on holding his mouth open. “And tall. Yes, I know that too. No, I don’t play basketball either. No soccer. No wrestling. No track. Did the coaches at my last high school try to get me to play? Now that you mention it, they did.”
The class erupted. Unfortunately Class Clown was not what he was going for. Class Ghost was his official title. They just didn’t know it yet.
Mr. Evans looked a little more amused than insulted, but just barely.
“And Lost Horizon is one of my mom’s favorites.” Jamison wasn’t sure the man could hear that last part.
While Mr. Evans beat on his desk with a yardstick to regain control, Jamison turned around to find Skye grinning at him. That giant rubber-band relaxed, in spite of what he knew—that she knew he knew, and that he knew she knew—just what had happened under that tree house the night before.
Unfortunately the kid behind him wanted to know what he was looking at. The guy looked at Skye, then his attention shot right back to Jamison.
“James,” the kid whispered.
“It’s Jamison.” He tried to turn forward again, but the kid was poking him in the back.
“She’s a Somerled, dude. You know. A Somerled?”
“So?” He really needed to face forward. The banging yardstick sounded like it was going to break.
“So, I think they only date their own kind, bro.”
Jamison sat forward and gave Mr. Evans his best impression of undivided attention. The class settled behind him.
“Since Mr. Shaw requires no extra time to catch up, we’ll test on the first half of the book tomorrow.”
Unhappy classmates groaned around Jamison. Some of them, he thought, were groaning specifically in his direction. But even all the complaining didn’t drown out one girl’s forced whisper.
“Jake saw them holding hands in the parking lot this morning.”
Into his mind popped the image of an incredibly soft white glove, in the center of which was a large red sticker that read, “Push here.” And he was holding it.
Holy crap. He’d never be invisible again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Neither of his friends showed up that day and the reassurance from Skye, that the pair would be fine, was a promise that faded with every passing hour. Each time he’d entered a classroom he’d hoped to see that blur of white, but they’d only had that first class together.
At lunchtime, he tried to blend into the bleachers, ignoring the girls’ volleyball team while he browsed through Lost Horizon and made a dent in the lunch his mother had packed. After being lugged around all morning the bag looked like something he’d fished out of the trash, but the food was good.
Safe, warm, happy and fed. That’s all his mother ever worried about, and since he hated her to worry, he assured her every day that all four states-of-being were covered. Although in Texas, warm had been replaced by hydrated, and jackets replaced by sunscreen and gallons of water.
His bladder, at least, was happy to be back.
When the final bell rang, Jamison raced to the parking lot but the green Beemer was gone. He hadn’t hoped for a ride, but for a dozen other things...
Another reassurance that his friends had not been blown up, or frightened to death.
Another moment of slack in the rubber-band between them.
Another chance to hear her laugh.
Maybe a casual question about who Somerleds were allowed to date.