Freshman Year & Other Unnatural Disasters Read Online Free Page A

forgot this! I figured you’d need it in case it’s chilly with the AC on,” she says.
    Is there a wicked glint in her eye, or is it my imagination?
    “Uh … I think I’ll be okay,” I stammer, desperately looking around for someone to signal to for help. “I should probably save that for temple, right?”
    “Well, I think you’re responsible enough to take care of it for one day. Put it on—I want to see you all dressed up in front of your new school.”
    She’s basically shoving me into the jacket; I figure struggling is futile, so I shrug it on and plan to stash it in my locker ASAP.
    And then, just as I’m fully encased in blazery ugliness and Mom is tugging at my sleeves … Jordan Rothman walks by. Oh, God—he’s even cuter than he was at the end of last year! His dirty blond hair is a little longer now and he keeps brushing it out of his eyes, which just happen to be the bluest on the planet . I swear, they’re like lasers that just zap you the second he looks your way. I think he’s definitely grown a couple of inches over the summer, too. He’s with a bunch of guys from our grade, and there’s just no contest—he is the hottest, sexiest, best-looking one there.
    Swoon.
    I come back down to earth and realize that I have to hide myself immediately before the blue lasers catch sight of my hideously updated ensemble.
    “Mom, I really have to go. Thanks so much for the gift card, and—”
    “Ooh, is that Jordan Rothman?” she whispers loudly. “He’s turned into quite the hunk! I wonder if his mom still—”
    I turn frantically and see Jordan snickering to his friends. Oh, God.
    “I have to go, Mom! See you later, love you, bye!” I dash off as fast as I can before she can start talking to Jordan about his mother or anything else, pausing only when I almost trip over some guy taking pictures of his friends by the front door.
    Well, that was an auspicious beginning.

4
     
    I’ve been in high school for three days now, and thus far it’s been a complete and total suckfest. Were all the teachers at this school forbidden to watch TV or eat candy growing up? Why are they so mean? Have they made some kind of pact designed to torture innocent kids who just want to text each other during homeroom?
    I can’t believe how much more work there is compared to middle school. I mean, pop quizzes? Really? On the second day of school ? And in what world is it okay for my econ teacher to assign us partners for a project instead of letting us choose our own? What happened to spending the first week getting to know each other and talking about our summers? And I got paired with, of all possible choices, Danny Zifner, who has smelled like old meat since third grade. What if it’s contagious in close proximity? What if the whole year is like this and I have to do tons of work and it ruins EVERYTHING ?
    But right now, for the next few hours, I have soccer tryouts—time to slap on my new positive attitude. Let the shining begin!
    I quickly change clothes in the girls’ locker room and head out to the field. The ground is nice and firm and it isn’t too hot out—I’m feeling really good. We start with stretching, and in between toe touches I suss out the competition. Most of my middle-school teammates are here, of course, and a lot of girls I don’t know at all—mainly upperclassmen, I guess. I recognize a couple of older girls who I know are the big varsity stars and make a mental note to try to end up in their group if we do a scrimmage.
    The coaches assign some girls to set up cones for drills, and I join a bunch of friends from my old team in line. Ana Blau, who was one of our starting forwards in eighth grade, leans in and whispers, “I still can’t believe Jemma is gone. You must be pretty psyched, huh?”
    I smile at her and shrug.
    Ana’s best friend, Keri, says, “Well, I’m psyched. It’ll be a nice change not to have to huddle under a sweatshirt in the locker room so she doesn’t make fun