Finding Sky Read Online Free Page A

bike, revving it like a warrior prodding a monstrous steed awake. With brief goodbyes to his companions, he shot out of the car park, other students scattering. I’d give a lot to be on the back of that bike, dismissing the school day as my knight whisked me home. Better yet, be the one driving, the lone superhero, fighting injustice in her skin-tight leather outfit, men swooning in her wake.
    A gust of self-mocking laughter stopped my random thoughts. Just listen to yourself! I chided my overheated imagination. Warriors and monsters; superheroes? I’d been reading too much Manga. These boys were a different breed from me. I was not even a blip on their radar. I should be thankful that no one could see inside my head to know just how fanciful I was. My grasp on reality could seem a bit shaky at times as I let my daydreams colour my perceptions. I was plain old Sky; they were gods: that was the way of the world.

 
    I drifted through school for the next few days, gradually filling in the blanks on my map and learning the way things were done. Once I’d caught up with the work, I found I could cope with my classes, even if some of the style of teaching was unfamiliar. It was way more formal than in England—no first names for the students, all of us seated in individual rows rather than in pairs—but I thought I had adjusted OK. So, lulled into a false sense of security, I was unprepared for the rude shock of my first gym lesson.
    Mrs Green, our evil sports teacher, sprang a surprise on the girls early Wednesday morning. There should be a law against teachers doing that so we at least had time to get a sick note.
    ‘Ladies, as you know, we’ve lost six of our best cheerleaders to college so I’m hunting for new recruits.’ I was not the only one to look crestfallen.
    ‘Come now, that’s no way to react! Our teams need your support. We can’t have Aspen High out-dancing, out-chanting us, can we?’
    Yes we can , I chanted under my breath in Obama-Bob-the-Builder fashion.
    She tapped a remote control and Taylor Swift’s ‘You belong with me’ started to blare over the loudspeakers.
    ‘Sheena, you know what to do. Show the other girls the steps for the first sequence.’
    A lanky girl with honey-blonde hair loped with antelope grace to the front and began what looked to me a fiendishly difficult routine.
    ‘See, it’s simple,’ declared Mrs Green. ‘Fall into line, the rest of you.’ I shuffled to the back. ‘You there—new girl. I can’t see you.’ Precisely: that had been the idea. ‘Come forward. And from the top—one and two and three, kick.’
    OK, I’m not completely hopeless. Even, I managed to do an approximation of Sheena’s moves. The minute hand on the clock crawled towards the end of the period.
    ‘Now we’re going to step it up,’ announced Mrs Green. At least someone was enjoying herself. ‘Get out the pompoms!’
    No way. I was not going to shake those ridiculous things. Glancing over Mrs Green’s shoulder, I could see some of the boys from my class, already back from their run, were spying on us through the window in the sports hall canteen. Sniggering. Great.
    Alerted by the attention of the front row to what was going on behind her, Mrs Green twigged that we had an audience. As smooth as a Ninja, she swooped on the boys before they knew what had hit them and dragged them in.
    ‘We believe in equal opportunities in Wrickenridge High.’ Gleefully, she thrust pompoms in their hands. ‘Line up, boys.’
    Now it was our chance to laugh as the red-faced males were forced to join in. Mrs Green stood at the front assessing our skill—or lack of it. ‘Hmm, not enough, not enough. I think we need to practise a few tosses—Neil,’ she picked out a broad-shouldered boy with a shaved head, ‘you were in the squad last year, weren’t you? You know what to do.’
    Tossing sounded OK. Chucking pompoms was better than shaking them.
    Mrs Green tapped three more recruits on the shoulder.