Free The Sweet Revenge of Celia Door by Karen Finneyfrock Page A

dance?” a high-pitched voice piped. I looked over and saw a girl in jeans and a Hershey High sweatshirt bouncing over to us from the picnic tables. She was trailed by another girl holding a metal cash box, and they both had paint on their faces that said
Junior
on one cheek and
Class
on the other. “It’s on October second,” she said.
    “No thanks,” Drake answered politely. I just shook my head, sending the spirited juniors on to the next group of students sitting in the grass.
    “Will you still be here on October second?” I asked, trying not to sound too invested in Drake’s departure date.
    “Who knows? My parents called both admissions offices, but I’m still on the wait list. It’s not like I have much to go back for now anyway. Then again, it’s not like I have much to stay here for.” He put his head on his hands and lay back in the grass as the other boys started the pickup game.
    I put the rest of my sandwich into my bag, having fully lost my appetite.

CHAPTER

    16
     
    “Back again, Celia?” Ms. Edgar, the school librarian, greeted Drake and me warmly when we drew open the double doors to our library. I had asked Drake to walk to school early on Tuesday so I could exchange my book. I still hadn’t returned
Foreignisms
, so I felt I was getting behind on my Dewey decimal project. Also, I wanted a new book to read during detention.
    Detention.
It was the first word that came to my mind when I woke up that day. I couldn’t imagine what horrors awaited me there. Luckily, Mom was working the swing shift again, so I didn’t have to mention it to her over dinner Monday night. Plus, she wasn’t telling me anything about Simon from the hospital, so I didn’t feel the need to tell her about detention. You could get two of them before a letter went home requesting a conference with your parent.
    “Morning,” I said back to Ms. Edgar, trying not to sound too Dark. I was wearing a short, black skirt and my thick-soled combat boots again, along with some purple striped tights. My boots and hoodie were turning into my school uniform.
    Drake looked sleepy, and his hair wasn’t styled. He hardly talked on the walk to school. But as soon as we walked into the library, he whispered, “I tried texting him last night. I emailed, too. He un-friended me online.” Drake didn’t have to tell me who
he
was. There was a deep well of sadness in Drake’s eyes.
    We walked along the nonfiction books, closest to the glass doors. The next section after language was science, the 500 class. I browsed through titles on planets, the nuclear age, and biodomes, looking for the next topic to grab my interest.
    “Maybe he will . . . change his mind?” I said, but didn’t sound convincing.
    “Yeah,” said Drake, but didn’t sound hopeful.
    Drake took a left turn and headed off into the stacks. I finally chose a book called
The Kingdom of the Earthworm
from the gardening section and went to the circulation desk to check it out.
    Drake was tucked into an aisle on the other side of the room, 100–199, philosophy and psychology. He was squatting down on his heels and reading through spines. As I waited for Ms. Edgar to scan my barcode, he approached the desk with one fat book wrapped in a shiny red-and-white dust jacket. The book Drake tossed onto the circulation desk was called
Dream It! Do It!
by Buddy Strong.
    × × ×
     
    My pink slip was delivered to Language Arts, providing me with directions to detention. Whenever these little pink wrist-slaps get delivered to class, kids make “oohing” sounds and turn to stare at the person getting one. When Sandy Firestone eyeballed me getting my pink slip, she said in a voice miraculously loud enough for every kid to hear yet inaudible to the teacher, “Detention just got weirder!” The laughter that rippled through the room made my blood thick.
    × × ×
     
    In fifth grade, all of our teachers said the same thing. “You kids are going to middle school next year. This