The Perpetual Motion Club Read Online Free Page A

hoping he didn’t make too much about her concern. She didn’t really care. She was just being polite.

CHAPTER FIVE
    “ You may walk,” the traffic signal stated in its monotone.
    The September air carried hints of early frost, hurrying the girls across Lambert. On the other side of the street Northawken High was lit up on the near east end to accommodate tonight’s basketball practice. Light blasted from the upper floor windows above the blinking Jetstream sign. The sounds of Coach Budzynski’s drill filled the air: the squeak of the Nikes, the aggressive dribbles, the slam against the floor just before the layup, the crash against the backboard, the scoring box announcing “Two Points” if the ball made it through the hoop, or “A Miss” if it didn’t.
    The West Wing of Northawken High, opposite the gymnasium in position as well as mentality, was likewise lit up with night time activities. This wing, representing the sciences, stood as the second pillar of acclaim and achievement in the school. Here is where tomorrow’s software engineers were incubated. Here a student could distinguish him or herself in the ways of program and design. If you couldn’t attract a name brand clothing or snack label to sponsor you, here in the West Wing you could attract the biggest employers of the scientific mind: IBM, Google, WikiCorp. They were always on the lookout for new talent.
    The third pillar of acclaim and achievement, the North End, stood perpendicular to both the gymnasium and the West Wing. It jutted straight back from the front of the building and tonight was as empty as prime time TV. Dedicated to producing great rock musicians, the North End was deserted because of a video taping downtown. All of the school’s soon-to-be pop gods and goddesses were on set, dancing or playing or entouraging.
    To be sure, the sadder, lonelier disciplines such as history, English, and government, all had classrooms as well. Curriculum had not totally changed from that of the Twentieth Century. But being somewhat superfluous in the modern world, there were fewer classrooms devoted to those subjects. Such classes met in corners here and there in the main sections of the school lorded over by the big three.
    For instance, Spanish class was held next to a volleyball court, with spikes and setups explained in a south-of-the-border dialect. Russian history stood in the middle of a bank of organic chemistry labs. If Rasputin didn’t kill you, the benzene rings would. English Lit shared a room with art classes next to rehearsal room B. Lectures were kept to a minimum since no one could hear over the drum solos anyway. There were no Latin classes held anywhere, ever.
    Tonight’s two busy wings, bright with the business of science and sports, invited onlookers on the street to witness Northawken’s important contributions to tomorrow’s world. One felt a warm feeling in the gut to behold such staunch pillars of achievement, especially with the loud, blinking ads for sports drinks, software, and video games installed on the building.
    The friendly competition for the hearts and souls of the students that the three disciplines engaged in provided a solid basis for community spirit and hope for the future. As long as old Northawken High remained busy every night spewing out software heads and pro wrestlers, the entire town could hold its head up. Here was a solid American institution.
    May and Elsa stopped momentarily to take in the greatness of the school.
    “That is one butt-ugly building,” May said. “What is that crappy flying buttress? I mean okay, so they couldn’t find any stone. Why pretend? It’s plastic. Paint it purple and make it loud like baby toys. It’s so fake! Macabre.”
    “Yeah, well, you don’t like anything that isn’t thatched, cresselated, or older than the Seventeenth Century, so there’s no pleasing you,” Elsa replied.
    Every time they spoke, they expelled white clouds of breath that lay in the air