The Seal of Solomon Read Online Free Page A

girl’s voice above me.
    â€œHey, are you all right?”
    I peeked at her through my fingers. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Tan.
    â€œYou’re Alfred Kropp, aren’t you?”
    I nodded.
    â€œI’m Ashley.”
    She had a round face and blue eyes—very blue, maybe the bluest eyes I had ever seen, big too, about the size of quarters.
    She sat down beside me. We watched as my bus pulled from the curb, belching black smoke.
    â€œWasn’t that your bus?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    â€œYou need a ride?”
    I nodded again. Nodding made my head hurt.
    â€œCome on. I’m parked right over there.”
    I followed her to the car, a bright yellow Mazda Miada convertible. I dropped my backpack into the tiny backseat and climbed in.
    â€œHow do you know my name?” I asked.
    â€œSomebody told me. I just moved here from California.
    My dad got transferred.”
    â€œAre you a senior?” I figured she was, since the car was parked in the senior lot.
    She nodded. I thought this was it, a perfect example of the luck-o’-the-Kropp: I get a lift by a gorgeous senior and nobody’s around to see it.
    â€œWhy were those guys beating you up?”
    â€œKropping.”
    â€œKropping?”
    â€œYou must be new,” I said, “if you’ve never heard of Kropping.”
    â€œWhy don’t you turn them in?”
    â€œIt’s not the code.”
    She glanced at me. “What code?”
    â€œI don’t know. The code of chivalry, I guess.”
    â€œChivalry? What, you’re a knight or something?”
    I started to say “No, I’m descended from one,” but then she might peg me for a freak, which I kind of was, I guess, but why give that away now?
    â€œThere aren’t any knights anymore,” I said. “Well, except certain guys in England, like Paul McCartney; I think he’s a knight. But that’s more an honorary title.”
    Suddenly, the left side of my face felt warm while the right side, the side unlooked at by Ashley, felt cool—cold even. It was weird.
    I told her where the Tuttles lived, and she pulled next to the curb to let me out. We sat there a minute, looking at the house slouched there behind the weed-choked lawn and overgrown shrubbery.
    â€œThis is where you live?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” I said. “Just where I exist.”
    I got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride.”
    â€œNo problem. See you around.”
    â€œSure. See you.”
    I watched her little yellow Miada rip down Broadway.
    Then I went inside and found some ice for my head.

6
    Over the next couple of weeks, I saw Ashley, the tall, tan, blue-eyed senior, all over campus. One day I looked up and there she was, sitting across from me at lunch. She smiled and I smiled back, but I was a little disturbed, for some reason.
    â€œHey, Alfred,” she said. “How’s it goin’?”
    I glanced around. “You sure you want to be seen with me?”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œIt could have an adverse effect on your social life.”
    She laughed and flipped her hair. Maybe I’m wrong, but blond girls seem to flip their hair more than brunettes or redheads. “I’ll risk it.”
    â€œI know what it’s like,” I said, “being the new kid. Only when I came last year I wasn’t a senior, I didn’t drive a hot car, and obviously, I wasn’t much to look at.”
    â€œWhy do you put yourself down all the time?”
    â€œI don’t put myself there. I just recognize that I am there.”
    I noticed she was hardly touching her lunch. When she did take a bite, she balanced the food on the very end of her fork.
    â€œI guess you’ve heard the rumors by now,” I said. “That I’m a terrorist or CIA agent, or the one about me being crazy.”
    She shook her head. “The only thing I heard was that your uncle was murdered last spring.”
    â€œHe