Trevor Read Online Free Page B

asked her.
    â€œNothing.”
    I went straight home and threw out my black leotard and sequined cape and all of my glitter makeup. No way was I ever going to dress up as Lady Gaga ever again. That phase of my life was over.
    After that I decided to spend some time doing push-ups and also sitting in front of the mirror in my room taking a good hard look at myself. Something was wrong with me and it was definitely showing. But what? No matter how long I stood there in front of the mirror, no matter how hard I stared at my own reflection, I couldn’t see the thing that was making me seem different from everybody else. My life had become an obvious tragedy; ironic that I was the only person who couldn’t see it.
    The next day at school Pinky stopped saying hey to me in between classes, and he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid me in the cafeteria. English class was a particular kind of torture because I was forced to see him for forty minutes, and he refused to look at me or acknowledge my existence. No one knew how deeply I suffered over this because I was determined to keep it to myself. This went on for more than a week, and the whole time I just wanted to know what had happened to my friendship with Pinky. Where did it go? What had I done to upset him? Was it because I walked like a girl? Maybe there was something I could do to make it better. But what?
    Then Mr. Kienast asked me to read aloud from my report on the short story. This was like a form of torture specially designed to humiliate and embarrass me. As I made my way to the front of the class, I could hear the kids whispering behind my back. That’s the kid who has a crush on Pinky Faraday. This was the longest walk I had ever taken in my life. I stood there facing the class with my stupid paper, and even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I hoped that maybe this was all just a bad dream. When I realized that it wasn’t a bad dream, I hoped instead that I might drop dead in front of the entire class. When that didn’t happen, I swallowed hard and began.
    â€œI chose for my topic The Loss of Innocence as Reflected in Literature . Here’s what I wrote:
    â€œThe loss of innocence is brought about because of an experience with no explanation. The character must be involved in the experience and must experience the loss. Must be hurt. Must survive. The experience must be potent enough to be remembered and must create a subtle change in the character . . .”
    Mr. Kienast gave me an A for my report. No one could tell that I copied it all from a book. Pinky continued to ignore me, and for the rest of the day I was officially invisible.

Eight
    M om was cleaning my room, and she just happened to read something that I’d been typing on my computer, a confidential email that I could have sent to my BFF—if I’d had a BFF. But since I do not have a BFF, or even a close friend in whom I could confide my deepest and most intimate feelings, the email was just idling on my screen unread—until Mom came along.
    She had a fit and then we had an all-out fight. I told her that my private life was none of her business and maybe I was crazy but it seemed to me that I ought to be able to have the freedom to express my own private thoughts in the privacy of my own room and on my own “personal” computer. She claimed that I was still too young to have any kind of a life that didn’t concern her, personal, private, or otherwise.
    â€œI’m your mother,” she said louder than was absolutely necessary. “And in case you haven’t noticed, I am in charge of your life.”
    To express my opposition to this extremely unfair point of view and to protest against people feeling that they had the right to read emails without the say-so of the person who wrote them, I attempted to run away to San Francisco. I did not leave a note. I simply packed a bag and snuck out through the garage. Unfortunately, I only got