Free Singled Out by Sara Griffiths Page B

asked, looking embarrassed.
    “Yes, Captain , I did.”
    He cringed. “I’m truly sorry about your friend, but thatwasn’t my decision. I swear to you.”
    “But you are part of the group, aren’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “So what’s your role, then? Why do they call you ‘Captain’?”
    He ran his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “’cause I’m the leader.”
    I couldn’t have been more confused. “You know that what you just said makes no sense, don’t you? If you’re with them, why are you trying to help me?”
    “’cause I don’t want them to get rid of you. I’m done messing with people’s lives. I can’t do that anymore.”
    “Do what?”
    “I’ve been with these guys for three years,” he said. “We control everything. We decide who’s popular and who isn’t, even who can walk with whom in the halls. And I’m just tired of it all. I’m not going to do it anymore.”
    He seemed legitimately upset. I stepped back and looked at him. This must be an act—an act to get me to trust him. “You must belong to the Theater Club, Barrett. That was quite a performance,” I said before storming off.

Chapter 11
    I spent the rest of the weekend trying to forget my conversation with Sam Barrett. I’d decided he was a liar, and that was that. On Monday, I put my focus on schoolwork. I read The Count of Monte Cristo while I ate lunch. I carefully took notes in Chemistry.
    I was waiting to hear hall gossip about my “intoxicated state” Friday night, but it seemed to be business as usual with the boys—ignore me, ignore me, ignore me. For once, the silence made me happy. It was certainly nicer than the alternative. Maybe Sam had put a stop to some drama in the making, but I wasn’t going to take any chances by talking to him.
    For the next few weeks, I went for extra after-school Trig help with Mr. Moesch on those days when I didn’t have gym work to do. I kept to myself, studied in my alcove, and was in bed before ten each night. Report cards were going to be issued after we got back from Thanksgiving vacation, which couldn’t come soon enough for me.
    My dad came up on the Wednesday before Turkey Day. I fell into his arms and smiled when I saw him come through the front door of the Richardses’. I slept in the car the whole way home and didn’t get up until ten the next day, waking up only because Dan came in and jumped on my head.
    “T, you’re home!” he said, jabbing his elbow into my side.
    “Give me a break, Dan. I’m trying to sleep.”
    He threw a pillow at my head. “Come on, get up.”
    I rolled over and put the pillow over my head.
    “Uh-oh, what’s this?” he said, grabbing my arm. “Have you been juicing?”
    “What?”
    He held up my arm. I was wearing my Evansville High tank top. “Your arms are jacked. Woo!” he said. “Dad, I think Taylor is using those performance enhancing drugs over at Hazelton!” he yelled down the stairs.
    “I’m not,” I said, laughing. “I just don’t have much to do up there except study and work out.” I threw the pillow back at him.
    “Come on, Hercules. We’re going to Grandma’s in an hour and Dad said you have to make your famous pumpkin pie.”
    “Dan, you know we just buy that from Wegman’s, don’t you?”
    “Mmm. Nothing like home cooking.”
    “You’re an idiot,” I said. “Now get out so I can get dressed.”
    Grandma Jen’s was packed with relatives. My dad had two brothers and two sisters, and I had ten cousins. They were as young as four and as old as twenty. The day was always loud and crazy, and it was just what I needed after the long first few months at Hazelton.
    Over pumpkin pie, I made Hazelton sound great, and parts of it were. I told everyone how beautiful the campus and the town were and about how smart all of the teachers were, all of which was true. I raved about working with the pitching coach.
    I didn’t mention what had happened to Gabby, or the evil boys looking to force