My Time as Caz Hazard Read Online Free Page A

class.
    It was pouring outside. The hallways were so crowded that I had to elbow my way through. When I finally got close to my locker, I found drug-dealer Brad and a group of his friends in my way. I tried to skirt around them, but no luck.
    â€œSped alert,” I heard one of them say.
    â€œHey, it’s Caz, right?”
    I looked up, surprised to see Brad speaking to me.
    â€œWant to go out with me some time?”
    It wasn’t like I was going to say yes. Not even if the universe was about to end and Brad and I were the only hope for the survival of the species. But when a guy like Brad suddenly asks you out, your jaw automatically drops. Then the entire circle of guys erupted in laughter.
    â€œGo out with a sped! Nice one, Brad!” They were slapping him on the shoulder as if he were a stand-up comedian. Feeling myface turn more and more red, I backed away through the crowd and headed for the girls’ washroom.
    Amanda found me just as I got there. I swiped the tears from the edges of my eyes, not wanting to explain what happened. She didn’t notice. Instead, she pulled me into the bathroom with her as the bell rang.
    â€œHey, Hazard, come and hang out with me,” she whispered. “I can’t stand the thought of going to math today. If that guy makes me do ratios one more time, I’m going to dip myself in oil and light a match. Really. I’m going to wrap myself in foil and throw myself into a deep freeze. I’ll take…”
    â€œOkay, okay. I get it,” I stopped her, laughing. “I’m not exactly in the learning mood either.”
    I sat at one end of the bathroom counter while Amanda perched on the other. She tugged off one sock and balanced her foot on the edge of a sink, pulling nail polish from her purse.
    â€œWhat do they do when you skip out?” I asked her.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe school. Do they send notes home or something?”
    Amanda shrugged. “If they do, they probably send them to the wrong address. I changed foster homes twice this summer.”
    â€œYou’re in foster care?”
    â€œDon’t look so shocked. I’m not the only one. Even Dodie Doorknob’s a foster.”
    My eyes widened. “Why?”
    â€œHer mom’s psychotic or something. Aren’t they all?”
    Thinking of my mom’s behavior lately, I was inclined to agree.
    Amanda launched into stories about her new foster sister, who kept sneaking out of the house at night. After a while I tuned out. I started writing on the mirror with my finger, watching the lines appear and disappear.
    â€œSkipping out,” I wrote. Then, “Caz HAZARD.” When I turned back to Amanda, she was dabbing lipstick on her lips, then smearing it around with lip-gloss.
    â€œWant some?” She tossed me the lip- stick tube.
    I opened it and turned to the mirror again. “Dodie Doorknob,” I wrote in big pink letters. It seemed childish. After a minute I added, “does Dogwood.” It wasn’t any less immature, I admit, but I thought Ms. Samuels would be proud of my consonant use.
    â€œExecuted with true creative flair,” Amanda grinned, hopping off the counter to give me an elaborate bow. “Now let’s blow this Popsicle stand.”
    We padded out through the deserted hallways, past the stoners smoking along the school fence and toward the mall again. It was windy and the air blew through my sweater, chilled my skin and sent my hair flying over my face. I suddenly felt carefree, as if the worst had already happened. I was already skipping out. I’d already written mean things on the mirror. What else could I possibly get in trouble for?
    When we got to an accessories store, I nudged Amanda. “This time you provide the distraction,” I said. Then I strolled inside andbegan trying on scarves, checking myself out in the mirror each time.
    I heard Amanda yelp. “Ouch! Okay, you’ve got to help