Sean Griswold's Head Read Online Free Page A

totally consent—”
    â€œWouldn’t happen. Even if you are cuter than any of the girls I ever went to high school with.”
    Jac squeals at the compliment. “But when I’m thirty you’ll be thirty …”
    She’s crunching the numbers when my dad jogs in, drenched in sweat. “Morning, kids.”
    I choke on a piece of apple. I have his schedule timed now so I can avoid these awkward moments. This isn’t fair. We have a routine. Well, he has a routine and I coordinate mine so they never overlap.
    He opens the fridge and gulps orange juice directly from the carton. “You kids should come shoot around with me. I actually made a few this time. Guess you didn’t want to get schooled before school, huh?”
    At least Dad feels good enough today to exercise. That eases some of my anxiety.
    Trent snorts and shakes his head. “Keep telling yourself that, Dad.”
    â€œSo, Jac.” Dad wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “Tell me how your first few weeks back from break are going. Still love high school?”
    â€œNo, Mr. Gritas. I’ve grown out of it.”
    â€œAfter one semester?”
    â€œYeah. I should just skip high school altogether, move on to college studies. College men. See, I’m really mature for my age—”
    â€œLet’s … let’s go, Jac,” I say.
    Jac’s lips settle into a practiced pout. “But I was finally wearing Trent down.”
    I abandon trying to give her the eye and focus on the hardwood floor. Dad’s looking at me, I know it, looking at me with that what-happened-to-my-little-girl? look. Well, what happened is I grew up. And since he neglected to notice that, he thought it was okay to lie and protect me.
    It’s more than that, though. Not that I can really explain what the more is. All I know is that anytime I’ve seen either of my parents these last couple of weeks, I get a hot flash of mad. Which, of course, makes me feel awful. Then they’ll do or say something and I stop feeling sorry and just feel … I don’t know what it is. But it hurts.
    It’s pretty obvious why my calculated avoidance is easier. Why can’t they give me some space? Eyes still focused on the ground, I grab Jac’s hand. “Gotta go start my head research.”
    The door slams behind us. And I know it’s impossible, but I can still feel my dad’s eyes following me.

    I would be lying if I said I didn’t get a kick out of the assignment. Here I am, a “troubled youth,” and my self-chosen treatment is to become a stalker. Okay, not stalker. Research Analyst.
    We race to school so I’ll have some time to stake out Sean’s locker. Jac’s idea, of course. She’s offered to aid in my mental healing because she has more experience when it comes to boys. As in, she’s had experience—period. Boys are like Greek to me. Foreign.
    â€œWhat’s the rush?” I ask Jac once we’re settled behind the large cement pillar about five feet from Sean’s locker. “Why can’t I just record my notes in biology?”
    Jac blows a bang out of her face. “Pookie. You have to have fresh angles. Different lighting, different movement. And you can see the whole head, not just the back.”
    â€œWell, I better get started then,” I say.
    â€œWhat, you want me to leave? Fine. But make sure you see what’s in his locker. You can tell a lot by what a guy has in his locker. It’s like seeing into his soul.” She does a double take as a boy walks by. “Look at that. Taj Langely. Holy mother, his shoulders are manly.”
    Jac leaves to pursue her own never-ending research of the male specimen, and I wait for Sean to get to school. Hmm. Funny, I don’t even know how Sean gets to school.
    Or where he lives.
    Or who he lives with.
    Or what he lives like.
    Or what his likes are .
    I guess I don’t know Sean Griswold.
    No.