The Revealers Read Online Free Page B

rampaging beast, who becomes confused and stands there with his big head twitching all around, surrounded by wire-rim glasses and graphing calculators and bologna-and-peanut-butter sandwiches.
    â€œOf course, tyranno was different,” Elliot said. “He’d lie in some undergrowth near a clearing or a stream bed. When prey came along, he’d charge out with his jaws wide open. Tyranno didn’t care how big a herd was! He’d always get somebody.”
    Suddenly in my mind I saw only Richie’s face. He was looking right at me. He raised his eyebrows.
    I sagged in my chair.
    â€œRight,” I said.
    Â 
    A girl came in and sat down at a table between us and the door. She was in our grade, a girl named Catalina. She was new this year, and different looking: tall and skinny, with big squarish glasses and straight, extremely dark hair, almost black, that hung below her ears. Her face was the color of coffee ice cream, and behind her glasses it was expressionless.
    I first noticed that about Catalina, the blank look she had, at the beginning of the year, when she was the new girl being
introduced in our social studies class. Ms. Hogeboom, who knew a Learning Opportunity when she saw one, asked the new girl to tell a little about herself
    The new girl stood up. People started whispering.
    â€œI am from near Manila. In the Philippines,” she said, and sat down. The whispers turned into giggling.
    â€œThere’s no need to stand when you’re called, Catalina,” Ms. Hogeboom said. “Is that what students do in the Philippines?”
    Catalina started to stand again, but stopped partway. “In my school, yes,” she said, bent over like a grasshopper. More giggles erupted. She sat down fast.
    â€œExcuse me, please,” Ms. Hogeboom said loudly. When the class settled down she said, “Now, Catalina. How did you happen to come to this country? You don’t have to stand.”
    â€œMy father is from Ohio,” she said. “He was in Manila for his company. He decided to come back.”
    â€œOh. I see,” Ms. Hogeboom said, and she turned to the rest of the class with a pleased expression, as if to say: See how totally we can embarrass someone when we all work together? Because by then half the kids in class—mostly the girls—were whispering and giggling again. Everyone was looking at Catalina, who sat bolt upright and looked straight ahead, with no expression at all.
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    Catalina sat down now at the library table and unloaded a bunch of books from her shoulder bag. I was watching her over Elliot’s shoulder. He was deep in his books. Catalina opened a book and then she was deep in hers, too. Through the doorway behind her came a gaggle of seventh-grade girls.
    There were four of them, walking close together and almost tiptoeing like they were holding their breaths. They came our way stealing quick glances at Catalina, who sat
with her back to them. In the center of the group was Bethany DeMere.
    Bethany DeMere is the ruler of the top clique of seventh-grade girls. She’s popular, and she’s one of those people who knows just what to say to cut you down. A lot of times she doesn’t say anything—she just looks away and shakes her head so her hair ripples down her back. She has this long, wavy blond hair that she knows is pretty eye-catching. If she wants to show you that you are not worth seeing or hearing, she shakes her hair as she turns away and sighs or rolls her eyes at somebody who is worth seeing and hearing. Of course, to her I did not exist. I didn’t even have hair-shaking status.
    Bethany and her crew crowded past us looking pressurized, like they could barely contain themselves about whatever they were up to. They went into the stacks and I heard whispering, and stifled giggling.
    Before long Catalina stood up and walked over to the catalog computers. About two seconds after she was gone, the DeMere clique came out