The Ghost in Me Read Online Free Page B
Author: Shaunda Kennedy Wenger
middle of the hallway seems like a much happier place.
And it is. Until Cass jogs back to get me.
Taking my hand, she pulls me along, away from the fifty minutes where I passed the time secretly staring at Duey, toward last place I ever wanted to be.
Chapter 6
"What's he doing here?"
"Hmmm?" Cass stops next to me in the doorway and looks to the front of the room where Diggs is standing.
"He's not-- He can't--" I keep my words steady, my thoughts clear, so I don't say something I'll regret. After all, Diggs is a science teacher. He teaches science, not drama. Which means, he's simply here for a visit. To talk with the drama teacher. Who is.... I look around. "Who's the drama teacher?" Slayer hadn't mentioned it. And I hadn't thought to ask.
"Diggs," Cass replies. "He took over last year after Miss Nanna left."
Oh no. One class with Diggs was bad enough. But now, two?
My stomach turns sour and twists into knots, as I watch him scoot into a sitting position on top of the teacher's desk. It's empty, so there's plenty of room. He crosses his legs, stretches him arms wide, gives everyone a welcoming smile. "Good morning, class! Good morning!"
Is this why my mother went along with Slayer's solution?
"Yes, hello!" he continues, as the last bell rings and the chatter simmers around him. "Find a seat, so we can get started."
I guess that means us.
Cass tips her head toward to a pair of empty desks at the back of the room.
"You didn't tell me," I mutter, scuttling behind her.
"Tell you what?"
"That Diggs does drama."
She shrugs, as she sits down. "I didn't think to."
Which makes sense. She doesn't know about Diggs and my mom. To her, his being here is no big deal. ECSAs are led by teachers, after all.
I open my binder, prop it on the desk, peer over its cover. With his arms held out, palms turned up, Diggs doesn't look like a science teacher.
But his tan pants, black-rimmed glasses, and light-blue button-down shirt aren't screaming, "I'm a drama teacher!" either.
Okay, so maybe his style of sitting is. And his tan stocking feet--he's kicked his brown loafers off. And his voice, which I can already tell is a bit more dramatic than the way it sounds in the lab.
Diggs claps his hands. "Let me say it again! Find a seat on your desk! Or, in your chair. Whichever you prefer, so long as you're in a comfortable place where you can see me."
He gives a satisfied nod.
"Great. Good to hear your voices so early in the day." I follow his eyes, as they move around the room from Cam Anree, who I hadn't noticed on the far side, to Gerica Walters, a stony, pale-faced goth who paints her eye-lids black, and finally to the one person I never wanted to be near again. Brittley. She squares her pink-sweatered shoulders and grins at Londyn Times, a girl sitting next to her in the front row.
Diggs nods, lifts his eyes to the rest of the class. "Today, for our opening exercise, we're continuing with our visualization techniques. But we're going to take it a step further into the metaphysical , by tapping into the energy at our core." He touches his chest with a fist. "Because drama, as you all know, is about harnessing energy. And showing energy. And feeling energy." He lifts his fist high, tightens his fingers more. "Ultimately, it's about sharing energy. With the audience. With each other. With everyone in the theater who wants to be swept up into a story as it unfolds."
Diggs must have taken a class from Miss Nanna. She was my health teacher last year, and she talked about this new-age, mumbo-jumbo stuff all the time. I imagine she talked about it here, too.
" But ," Diggs continues, raising a finger. "Before you can do any of that, before you can show, feel, or share your energy, you have to know where that energy rests. How to harness it. And most importantly, how to control it . This will be an important exercise as we prepare for our play, the choice of which I'll go over in a few minutes."
I raise my hand.
"Yes? Is
And it is. Until Cass jogs back to get me.
Taking my hand, she pulls me along, away from the fifty minutes where I passed the time secretly staring at Duey, toward last place I ever wanted to be.
Chapter 6
"What's he doing here?"
"Hmmm?" Cass stops next to me in the doorway and looks to the front of the room where Diggs is standing.
"He's not-- He can't--" I keep my words steady, my thoughts clear, so I don't say something I'll regret. After all, Diggs is a science teacher. He teaches science, not drama. Which means, he's simply here for a visit. To talk with the drama teacher. Who is.... I look around. "Who's the drama teacher?" Slayer hadn't mentioned it. And I hadn't thought to ask.
"Diggs," Cass replies. "He took over last year after Miss Nanna left."
Oh no. One class with Diggs was bad enough. But now, two?
My stomach turns sour and twists into knots, as I watch him scoot into a sitting position on top of the teacher's desk. It's empty, so there's plenty of room. He crosses his legs, stretches him arms wide, gives everyone a welcoming smile. "Good morning, class! Good morning!"
Is this why my mother went along with Slayer's solution?
"Yes, hello!" he continues, as the last bell rings and the chatter simmers around him. "Find a seat, so we can get started."
I guess that means us.
Cass tips her head toward to a pair of empty desks at the back of the room.
"You didn't tell me," I mutter, scuttling behind her.
"Tell you what?"
"That Diggs does drama."
She shrugs, as she sits down. "I didn't think to."
Which makes sense. She doesn't know about Diggs and my mom. To her, his being here is no big deal. ECSAs are led by teachers, after all.
I open my binder, prop it on the desk, peer over its cover. With his arms held out, palms turned up, Diggs doesn't look like a science teacher.
But his tan pants, black-rimmed glasses, and light-blue button-down shirt aren't screaming, "I'm a drama teacher!" either.
Okay, so maybe his style of sitting is. And his tan stocking feet--he's kicked his brown loafers off. And his voice, which I can already tell is a bit more dramatic than the way it sounds in the lab.
Diggs claps his hands. "Let me say it again! Find a seat on your desk! Or, in your chair. Whichever you prefer, so long as you're in a comfortable place where you can see me."
He gives a satisfied nod.
"Great. Good to hear your voices so early in the day." I follow his eyes, as they move around the room from Cam Anree, who I hadn't noticed on the far side, to Gerica Walters, a stony, pale-faced goth who paints her eye-lids black, and finally to the one person I never wanted to be near again. Brittley. She squares her pink-sweatered shoulders and grins at Londyn Times, a girl sitting next to her in the front row.
Diggs nods, lifts his eyes to the rest of the class. "Today, for our opening exercise, we're continuing with our visualization techniques. But we're going to take it a step further into the metaphysical , by tapping into the energy at our core." He touches his chest with a fist. "Because drama, as you all know, is about harnessing energy. And showing energy. And feeling energy." He lifts his fist high, tightens his fingers more. "Ultimately, it's about sharing energy. With the audience. With each other. With everyone in the theater who wants to be swept up into a story as it unfolds."
Diggs must have taken a class from Miss Nanna. She was my health teacher last year, and she talked about this new-age, mumbo-jumbo stuff all the time. I imagine she talked about it here, too.
" But ," Diggs continues, raising a finger. "Before you can do any of that, before you can show, feel, or share your energy, you have to know where that energy rests. How to harness it. And most importantly, how to control it . This will be an important exercise as we prepare for our play, the choice of which I'll go over in a few minutes."
I raise my hand.
"Yes? Is
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