Beauty and the Bully Read Online Free Page A

second-floor hallway. “That’s why soccer players are such goofs. All those balls bouncing off their heads. It’s just not good for people. Blunts their young minds. Basically you don’t want to hit stuff with your head unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She hopped to a stop beside him. “And c’mon, when is it ever really necessary to hit stuff with your head, Duncan? Never.”
    He smiled.
    â€œGood morning, sunshine. You’re here early.”
    â€œYup, sure am. I’m beginning my school day just like I’ll end it: sitting in detention, carving things on a desk.”
    â€œDetention? Still? Because of the Tater Tot assault on that yearbook chick?”
    â€œNo, no. The erotic noises at the volleyball assembly.”
    â€œOh, right. That was nice. I thought it was pretty hot, actually.”
    â€œJust trying to inspire the team. Go Owls. Hoot.” She shrugged. “Hey, sorry to bail on practice yesterday. I’m kind of a hothead, I guess. And you were kind of . . .”
    â€œ. . . pathetic. Totally, unforgivably, girl-obsessed, flagrantly pathetic.”
    â€œRight. That.”
    â€œYeah, it got worse after you left.”
    â€œIt got worse ? What could you do that was more pathetic? Sing Michael Bolton songs? Make out with a secret inflatable Carly doll? Put on some Mariah Carey and sob deep, womanly sobs?” She pouted, then mockingly stroked his arm. “Poor widdle Dunky-poo.”
    â€œNo,” he said emphatically. “And there is no secret doll. But don’t give me any ideas.” He banged his head against the locker again and said, “I went to Watts. Did a little homework. Carly was there. I waved at her—a total geek wave. You should’ve seen this wave. Unbelievable. God, I’m an idiot.”
    â€œYou waved at her.” Jess drummed her fingers against a locker.
    â€œYeah. Stupid, I know.”
    â€œUm . . . huh? Why was it stupid to wave at her?”
    â€œDude, this was such a spazzy-ass wave. It’s almost indescribable. Totally stupid.”
    â€œI fail to see how any wave, no matter how spazzy, is worse than my hypothetical scenario where you make out with an inflatable doll. Are you really so screwed up over this flakeball that you can’t even deal with not giving her your best wave ?” She stared for a moment. “Look, you know those creepy loner kids who no one ever notices until they stash a bomb under their coat and blow up a lunchroom? Well, to Carly, you’re like one of those guys. Before the atrocity.” Duncan gave her a puzzled stare. “Dude, what I’m saying is this: you would literally have to blow crap up around here in order to get her to notice you. So don’t sweat the park.” She slugged his arm, and not softly. “Later. I’ve gotta go serve my time.”
    Jessie whistled and air-drummed as she bounded off toward wherever it was detentions were served—Duncan, when he broke rules, tended to break them in a more subtle manner than her. His behavioral record was thus far unblemished.
    He stood in the silent white-tiled hallway and considered the possibility that—even if Carly and her friends had noticed him at the park—they were over it yesterday. Whatever snickering they did at his expense probably didn’t last very long. After all, the significance of Duncan (or Dalton) Boone in the life of Carly Garfield was not quite the same as the signi ficance of Carly Garfield in the life of Duncan Boone. He sighed, leaned against the locker, and allowed himself a small laugh.
    Then he heard Carly’s unmistakable voice from the stairwell, and the clap of her sandals against the floor. These were unexpected sounds—they were difficult to process. Duncan watched Carly turn down the hallway toward her locker. He admired the swish of her patchwork hippie skirt. He stared for several seconds before a small voice from within