Gravity Brings Me Down Read Online Free

Johnson turns around in his seat and smiles as if he’s posing for a magazine. He slips me a note, like he’s taken a vow of silence or something and can’t actually speak. I unfold the note and there, in his grade-3 scrawl, are these words:
    How about it?
    I have no idea what the “it” is he’s referring to so I just stare blankly back at him until he gets up and leaves— but not before rapping on the top of my desk with his knuckles like a chimp. Steve gets up and follows him, glancing back at me with that same guilty puppy look. I just can’t figure out what’s going on.
    I hand the note to Sharon as we exit the class. “Don’t ask me to explain because I have no idea.”
    “What is this … Write Sioux a Note Day?”
    “Beats me.”
    “Do you think Biff wrote the other one, too? Maybe it’s some kind of jock conspiracy.”
    “Whatever.”
    “Do you think he likes you? He’s not
that
bad.”
    “Are you out of your mind?”
    “He’s kind of cute … in a sporting sort of way. He’s got a great body. Maybe you should just go out with him to see what he’s really like. You could write about it.”
    “I’d rather eat my own vomit.”
    “Fair enough.”
    We endure an hour and a half of English: some riveting discussion about
Gulliver’s Travels
, in which Tod answers every question Mr. Farrell asks, to the point where he starts to ignore Tod’s hand altogether. I don’t know why he thinks anyone else is paying attention because no one but Tod has
ever
answered
any
of his questions. He actually scopes in my direction but I freeze him out with my iciest stare and he glides right past. I think I scare him. Sharon thinks he has the hots for me, but get real: Mr. Farrell looks as if he wandered off the Shire.
    After an interminable amount of time, class is finally over. Two Gauloise with the PIBs and several lengthy deliberations later (none of which include Biff or
Gulliver’s Travels)
, Sharon and I decide to take our party to the Coffee Tip. It’s really an old Coffee Time, but the new owner changed the name to “Tip,” using masking tape to cover the last two letters of “Time” then adding a “P” with black Magic Marker. I guess he didn’t want to pay for the franchise, but you’d think he could have come up with something better than “Coffee Tip.”
    I have to confess, I have a secret fascination with the names of places. I always wonder about the people behind the names, how they came up with them and why. Some of my favourites are:
    Peace Karate
PHO Q DINNER
SUPERMODEL PIZZA
    Sharon and I think it’s funny to invent better names for places. We play this game on the way to the Tip. She suggests “Coffee Grime” and “Coffee Crime,” which seems fitting, given the sludge they brew up. I suggest “Coffee Mime” and imagine the entire wait staff dressed like clowns, miming out coffee for the patrons. In the end, we decide that “the Tip” is the best name of all because we like the irony: it’s not on the tip of anything, and consequently, we rarely leave one.
    The whole way to the Tip, Tod is trailing about a block behind on his moped. He thinks I don’t notice, but I could spot his gold helmet from outer space, it’s so bright. Sharon does not tolerate Tod. Which means that I can’t either, even though her intolerance makes little sense to me. I mean, on a relative scale, Tod is
way
more acceptable than Biff, but she actually suggested I go out with the animal. Regardless, I’m about to tell Tod to vamoose when I notice something funny. It’s Miss Marple, in the middle of the street, cars swerving all around. She seems confused and scared but nobody slows down or stops to help. They just blast their horns as they go by. One of the drivers even screams at her to get off the road.
    Sharon points. “Oh my God. Look at that stupid old lady.”
    Miss Marple is going to get hit, so I have no choice but to walk into traffic to get her. I guess this is my opportunity to pay