Read I'd Rather Not Be Dead for Free Online Page A

unanswered.
    Whoever it is calls back right
away. “I'm sleeping,” Cris says before hanging up on them, still
without emerging from his cocoon.
    The third time it rings, he sits
up, eyes livid, and jams his finger against button that picks up.
“Back the hell off! I'm sleeping!”
    He blinks, then runs a hand
through the mess of his hair. “Oh. Hey, Drew. Thought you were
someone else.”
    It's me. He doesn't seem too
happy about that. Looks nervous. Who was the other caller? A girl?
The idea makes my stomach clinch. But I'm jumping to conclusions.
It could be one of our out-of-town friends or one of Cris's drug
connections. He's the leading supplier of just about everything
illegal in our school.
    “No,” he tells the me on the
phone. “I just feel like ass.” His hand rubs over his face as he
listens to whatever I am saying. “No, it's not about that. Although
I don't appreciate your attitude.”
    He doesn't appreciate my
attitude. A classic Cris sort of statement. There's an intensity
behind the words that I find hot, although the other me reacts with
yelling.
    “We've been through this,” he
says. “I gave you the bag Monday. I remember doing it.”
    The bag... They're arguing about
misplaced weed, like they were at lunch the other day. I wouldn't
have taken it. Sure, I'll share when he offers, but I've never been
the one to suggest getting high and it's not something I do alone.
Undoubtedly, he misplaced it. Possibly while stoned on something
else. He never could admit when he's been a dumbass.
    Cris hangs up the phone after a
curt goodbye and stomps into the shower. I resist the urge to
follow him. That seems wrong. More wrong than hanging out in his
room without him knowing it.
    While he's gone, my eyes drift
close. When they open again, Cris is running madly around the room.
His mother yells from down the hall that he's going to be late for
school and that he's grounded if he gets any more detentions.
“Yeah, right,” he mutters under his breath, knowing full well it's
an empty threat.
    The phone rings again and he
grabs it quickly. “Hey, Babe,” he answers in a sexy purr.
    My teeth bite into the side of
my cheek. I don't think he's talking to me. It could be more
conclusion jumping, but I'm fairly sure he's still too mad at me to
use that seductive tone.
    “No, I was about to leave the
house.” He laughs. “Naw. I have a test in calc this morning. Still
on for this weekend though?” In the mirror, he gives himself a
smile and pulls on a leather jacket. Black with lots of zippers. We
bought it in Asheville a few weeks ago.
    He's obviously not talking to me
or he would have said we have a test in calc. We. Plural. So, who
is he talking to? Without thinking about it, I grab the phone and
pull it from his hand. It comes out, but I can't hold onto it. It
rushes to the floor, smacking against the boards with an ominous
crack.
    Cris curses himself. Then he
curses the hardwood floors, claiming if the phone had hit carpet,
it wouldn't have broken. He messes with it some, trying to get it
to work again before tossing it into his backpack in disgust.
    “Crispin!” his mom calls.
    He curses her too before yelling
back. “Yeah. I'm out.”
    I don't leave with him but sit
down on the floor and try to reason with myself. Okay, maybe he was
talking to another girl. No. He was definitely talking to another
girl. The only alternative would be that he was talking to another
boy and he just doesn't swing that way. But so what? He's not my
boyfriend, so he can't be cheating on me. But if he's not doing
anything wrong, why's it hurt so much?

Chapter Five
     
     
    Calculus is probably my least
favorite class. Not only does it make zero sense to me, but I don't
have any clue how any of this is going to make my life even
slightly better. But it was important to my dad that I take it.
Important enough that if I pass the entire year, he's promised me a
car at graduation. A used car, and not one I get to pick out,