Shades of Simon Gray Read Online Free Page A

earlier. Everybody in town knew that the road curved around the Hanging Tree. And for those unfamiliar with the area, there were yellow signs with black arrows to guide them around the danger zone. Nobody in their right mind could possibly run into it.
    “Simon Gray drunk? You’re kidding, right?”
    “Then why?”
    “Who knows.” Kyle paused to take a breath. “We’ve got ourselves a little problem.”
    “You mean Simon?”
    “Something else.”
    “Yeah? What’s that?”
    “Not on the phone,” Kyle said.
    “Is this about the project?”
    “Later.”
    Danny was starting to get nervous. It wasn’t like Kyleto be so cryptic. “Right. Later.” Danny slammed the phone into the cradle. The news about Simon had left him badly shaken. He flattened his palms against the wall in front of him for balance.
    When he got back to his room, his head felt so light he thought he might keel over. He told himself it was probably because of the hot steam in the shower. He flopped on the bed, lying on his back, and waited for the whirlpool in his head to wind down while his heart continued to bang against his chest. According to the digital clock on the nightstand, it was almost seven-thirty. He had fifteen minutes to get to school before the last bell. He couldn’t afford any black marks on his record right now. The previous Thursday, after an agonizingly long wait, he had received his acceptance letter from Dartmouth, and his feet hadn’t touched the ground since. Not until now. Not until Kyle’s phone call.
    He closed his eyes and waited for the pounding in his chest to slow down. What if Simon died? What if he had left behind any evidence?
    No, not Simon. Not a chance.
    Had it been only a year since he and Kyle Byrnes first cornered Simon in the cafeteria as he was dropping off his tray?
    Danny remembered how they’d flanked him, walked him down the hall, straight into the custodian’s closet, and pulled the chain overhead to turn on the single dim light-bulb. Surrounded by industrial-sized bottles of disinfectant, cans of Comet, boxes of sponges, and bundles ofpaper towels and toilet paper, they had held a brief meeting. They were juniors back then; Simon, a lowly sophomore.
    Danny remembered how, in spite of Simon’s small stature—five and a half feet of skin and bones—and his face, so pale he almost blended in with the wall, he had stared them right in the eye, his expression as stoic as a moose facing down an eighteen-wheeler. He didn’t so much as blink. He just stood there waiting.
    It was Kyle who had spoken first, Kyle with his smooth easygoing style, his friendly grin, who towered over Simon by half a foot, wearing a Tommy Hilfiger rugby shirt, as colorful and approachable as Simon’s black T-shirt was darkly impenetrable. Kyle’s dark hair was short and neat. Simon’s, pale and shaggy, jutted out in all directions, as if he’d forgotten to comb it that morning. Face to face, they were a study in contrasts.
    Kyle had been rambling on about how Simon was a living legend at Bellehaven High, how everyone knew he was a genius with computers. That was when Simon finally blinked, although his face still showed no expression. Kyle kept pouring it on. He kept it up until Simon glanced over at Danny and said, his voice flat and noncommittal, “Does this have anything to do with Walter Tate’s family moving to Seattle?”
    Bingo.
    Danny was impressed. Simon had nailed it. He wondered if Simon knew that Walter, who’d been part of their posse since Walter was a freshman, was a vital part of theacademic hub they’d created. Probably not. And neither Danny nor Kyle was about to tell him that. Not yet. It was too risky.
    “Why d’you think that?” Danny asked.
    Simon stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and leaned back against the metal shelves. “Walter was in my advanced placement computer science class.”
    Kyle looked down at his watch. “I’m going to be late for calculus.” He rested one hand on