Siren's Song Read Online Free Page B

me that casual grin, but I resist the urge to smile back. I haven’t been able to concentrate through the last two classes, not with his stares and deep voice. And now he’s going to witness my inept, non-existent athletic ability.
    â€œYou’re not taking third-year French.”
    â€œ Je parle déjà Français couramment .”
    I purse my lips tight. So, he doesn’t need third-year French. Even his accent rolls off his tongue like an authentic Frenchman.
    â€œAnd no drama?”
    He shrugs. “I’m taking AP Art. My mother’s idea. The rest is…coincidence.”
    He sits on the bleacher next to me. First day of school means no dressing out. Just rules and lockers.
    â€œHey, Jule.” Rachel Manx slides down the bleacher. The girl hasn’t talked to me since the eighth grade. Talking about me doesn’t count. She either wants the scoop on my mom, or she’s just trying to get near Luke. I can stomach the second possibility, so I go with that.
    â€œRachel, Luke. Luke, Rachel.” I throw out the introduction like a bone and hope she’ll pant after it.
    Rachel scoots around to sit next to Luke. She holds out her hand. “Hi. So, you’re new. Where are you from?”
    â€œBoston,” he answers and shakes her princess-limp hand.
    â€œThat’s right,” she exclaims, her hyper-mascaraed eyes popping wide. “Your dad is Oscar Whitmore, the new assistant coach of the Blizzards!”
    â€œYou know hockey?” he asks. “I play.”
    â€œI love hockey,” she gushes.
    Yeah, right. Rachel knows enough to talk to the hot-bod hockey player.
    I lean back against the bleacher and count the retired basketball jerseys and pennants hanging from the rafters. I wonder if they wash those jerseys before hanging them up. Maybe that’s why the gym always stinks.
    Assistant Coach MacGuire passes forms and lists of rules down the line of students.
    â€œWhere do you play?” Rachel asks. “There isn’t a team at Cougar Creek.”
    â€œThere are some leagues over at the IcePlex.”
    â€œOh, I love the IcePlex. I took figure skating lessons there.”
    Yeah, when she was, like, nine. I take a green form and hand the pile to Luke. His fingers brush mine and I jerk back, almost dropping the stack.
    â€œI’ve got them,” he says as I flounder.
    I catch Rachel’s pursed lips. “Jule, I’ve been meaning to stop by and see if there is anything I can do to help.”
    Oh, here it comes. “Nope, we’re just fine.” I pick up one green paper that fluttered to the polished wood planks and give her a tight, close-lipped smile.
    She tips her head down and looks up at me with big, innocent eyes. “Now, Jule, everyone knows that you all aren’t fine at home.” She shakes her highlighted head. “My mom wanted me to ask if she can bring a meal over.” Two months ago might have been nice. I hardly think her mom is offering now. More likely it has everything to do with embarrassing me in front of Luke. Well, I don’t really care what Luke or Rachel thinks, I tell myself, and straighten in my seat.
    â€œGeez, that’s nice,” I say, playing along. “I prefer lasagna, lots of mushrooms.” I squeeze out a smile and stand up just as Carly’s dad, Coach Ashe, dismisses us to find our lockers. What are the chances I’ll ever see a noodle from Rachel’s mother? Nil.
    After PE I stop by my locker to grab my French notebook.
    â€œSo, you like lasagna?” Luke’s voice makes me catch my breath, throwing my heart again into overdrive. Up and down. It’s like running sprints. He looks around my locker door. “Sorry. Did I scare you?”
    â€œStartled,” I say and bend down to pick up the pouch of pens that had slapped against the linoleum. He studies me as I stand. I feel his scrutiny, like he’s trying to see inside me. I turn.