Acid Song Read Online Free Page B

music video.
    ‘Yeah, so, um, see ya then.’
    ‘See ya.’ She smiled. The effort of it fractured fault lines in her brain.
    Ollie bobbed against the tide a moment, then regained his momentum, his shoulders rolling out towards the door. The air. Freedom.
    She was not crying. She would not cry.
    ‘Sophie, bio right?’
    ‘Ah, yeah, think so.’
    Tessa stopped and looked again.
    ‘You all right?’
    ‘What? Yeah, sure. Just … you know, sick of it all.’
    ‘Sure.’ Tessa asked no more. She understood. Who didn’t?
    They made their way up the stairs. Sophie’s legs were heavy; she felt out of sync, as if imposed on the scene by an amateur hand, three frames out of time. She stumbled on, determined to make up the ground, to swallow back the dancing that had hold of her stomach. Sick.
    ‘You think we can get him to play games today?’ Tessa asked.
    ‘If you ask nicely.’ Her voice was her friend. It would not betray her with so much as a quiver.
    ‘Me? You’re the one he’s always looking at.’
    ‘I wouldn’t say always.’ Sophie laughed.
    He was Mr Krane, their biology teacher. Luke Krane, an odd one. All teachers were odd, that was a given: adults who’d never left school. Mr Krane’s odd though was different. He could make them laugh when he felt like it. Tessa was right. He did look at her, sometimes. And she didn’t mind. That sort of odd. Early thirties she guessed, not quite as old as her dad.
    They were the last ones to class, five minutes late because Tessa diverted to the toilets to consult the mirror. Sophie was relieved to see her eyes hadn’t reddened. Maybe with an X-ray the damage would be visible.
    ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Tessa breezed. ‘Toilet.’
    It was good to be a girl too, sometimes. Tessa chose seats beneath the teacher’s nose and looked up, flicking her hair back with long fingers. She’d dyed it blonde, in preparation for summer, and it made her look like a slapper. Sophie didn’t tell her this.
    ‘Sophie wanted to know if we were playing games today,’ Tessa said.
    ‘And what’s in it for me?’ Mr Krane asked. Oblivious.
    ‘I don’t know,’ Tessa replied. ‘I’m not Sophie.’
    People laughed. He shrugged it off, like the nothing it was. The class fixated on the possibility of a game.
    ‘Yeah, let’s do one of those games, Mister.’
    ‘You promised us.’
    ‘When did I promise you?’
    ‘Before the last test.’
    ‘That was last term, Brendan. You don’t even remember last Wednesday.’
    ‘My long-term memory’s good, Mister. It doesn’t affect your longterm memory.’
    ‘Being stupid affects everything.’
    ‘You’d know.’
    ‘Well actually I wouldn’t. That’s the compensation for being stupid, you see. You’re always the last to realise.’
    Each class depended upon the teacher’s mood. A sick sort of roulette, five long years trapped at the table. Today they’d get their game.
    ‘Okay, chairs and desks to the side. We need some space for this.’
    Twenty-four pairs of arms and legs built messy nests at the edge of the room.
    ‘What’s this for?’
    ‘Reproduction. We’re going to learn about reproduction.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Do we get to choose who with?’
    Lionel was front row: large, wide and firmly planted. His face dimpled when he smiled, and when he scowled. People were afraid of him. Sophie’s friend Jade, who had fallen for him briefly some time last summer, swore that he was a lot cleverer than he appeared. Sophie preferred the alternative: that Jade was far stupider. For Lionel was a stupid boy, a bully who set the tone because nobody knew how to stop him.
    ‘No, we’re leaving it to fate,’ Mr Krane told him.
    ‘Is this still part of the ecology unit?’ asked Sean. Lionel hit him from behind.
    ‘Don’t!’
    ‘Or what?’
    The teacher ignored the exchange. If you didn’t ignore Lionel, then the lesson was about Lionel. Every time. They wouldn’t expel him. That would be giving up. And it was
very important to