Made You Up Read Online Free Page B

fallen asleep on his desk. Someone had taped a paper sign to his back that said “Nazi” in black marker.
    I shivered. I liked researching Nazis as much as the next war historian, but I would never use the term as a nickname. Nazis scared the daylights out of me. Either everyone at this school was an idiot, or Miles Richter really was as bad as Tucker was making him out to be.
    â€œHe has this ridiculous club, too,” Tucker said. “The East Shoal Recreational Athletics Support Club. It’s just the sort of obnoxious name he’d pick.”
    I swallowed the sudden unease in my throat. I knew the club name, but I hadn’t known it was his club. The sign on Miles’s back rose and fell with his breathing.
    â€œUm. Hey.” Tucker nudged me. “Don’t let him try to pull anything on you, okay?”
    â€œPull anything? Like what?”
    â€œLike unscrewing your chair from your desk, or tearing a hole in the bottom of your backpack.”
    â€œOhhhkay,” I said, frowning. “You know, now I’mpretty sure he’s either a gorilla, a T-Rex, or a poltergeist. Anything else I should know about him?”
    â€œYeah,” Tucker said. “If he ever starts talking with a German accent, call me.”

Chapter Five
    M y next three classes of the day were like the first. I walked into the classrooms and spun in a circle, checking everything. If I found something strange—like a World War II–era propaganda poster on the wall—I took a picture of it. I was asked four times if my hair was dyed. My AP Macro teacher let me know it was against the rules. I told him it was natural. He didn’t believe me. I showed him the picture of my mother and my little sister, Charlie, that I always carried with me, because their hair was the same. He sort of believed me. I sat in the chair closest to the door and kept a watchful eye on him for the rest of the period.
    The cafeteria was huge, so there were plenty of open spots. That was a good thing, because no one paid attention to me in the seat against the wall, picking through my foodfor Communist tracers. Mr. McCoy came over the PA to make another announcement about the scoreboard. People stopped talking and eating to snicker about it, but no one seemed surprised.
    Miles Richter was in all of my AP classes.
    My fifth period, study hall, was the only class he wasn’t in. I still wasn’t sure what Tucker had meant when he’d told me not to let Miles pull anything on me. He hadn’t done anything Tucker had warned me about, but he certainly hadn’t ignored me.
    Pre-lunch, when I dropped my pencil in AP U.S. History, he kicked it to the far side of the room before I could pick it up. Because he leaned back and looked at me like, What are you going to do about it? I shoved his backpack off his desk.
    In AP Government that afternoon, he “accidentally” stepped on my shoelace and I nearly fell on my face. When the teacher passed our first homework assignments down the rows, I gave Miles one that had “accidentally” been ripped in half.
    In AP Chemistry, Ms. Dalton seated us in alphabetical order and handed out lab notebooks, which look like notebooks on the outside but are filled with graph paper and make you want to kill yourself. She dropped mine onto my desk with a loud THWUMP .
    I kept a careful eye on the back of Miles’s neck as I wrote my name on the cover. It turned out lopsided and scratchy, but still legible. Good enough.
    â€œI figured we’d start off the school year with a little icebreaker lab,” Mrs. Dalton said with a certain lazy cheerfulness as she returned to her desk, popped open a Diet Coke, and chugged half of it down in one go. “Nothing hard, of course. I’m going to assign lab partners and you can get to know each other.”
    I suspected bad karma sneaking up on me with a nine iron. Probably because of the time I flushed Charlie’s entire line