Read Of Poseidon for Free Online Page A

lling up the doorway—
    holding
    nothing but a binder and an irritated expression. And he is already staring at me.
    Mr. Pinner says, “Come have a seat up front, young man.
    And you can sit here for the remainder of the week as well. I don’t tolerate tardiness. What is your name?”
    “Galen Forza,” he answers without taking his eyes off me.
    Then he strides to the desk next to me and seats himself. He dwarfs the chair meant for a normal adolescent male, and as he adjusts to get comfortable, a few feminine whispers erupt from the back. I want to tell them that he looks even better without a shirt on, but I have to admit that a tight T-shirt and worn jeans almost does him justice.
    Even so, his presence sends me reeling. Galen has been a key player in my nightmares these past weeks, which have been nothing but a subconscious rehashing of the last day of Chloe’s life. It doesn’t matter if I sleep for forty minutes or two hours;
    -1—
    I smack into him, hear Chloe approaching, feel embarrassed all 0—
    over again. Sometimes she asks him to go to Baytowne with us
    +1—
    • 38
    38 •
    105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 38
    8/23/11 3:44 PM
    and he agrees. We all leave together instead of getting in the water.
    Sometimes the dream gets mixed up with a diff erent one—
    the one where I’m drowning in Granny’s backyard pond. The events run together like watercolors; Chloe and I fall in the water, and the school of catfi sh materialize out of nowhere and push us both to the surface. Dad’s boat is waiting for us, but I taste saltwater instead of fresh.
    I would rather have the dream with the real ending, though—
    it’s horrible to see over and over, but it doesn’t last very long, and when I wake up, I know Chloe is dead. When we take the alternate endings, I wake up thinking she’s alive. And I lose her all over again.
    But the tingles never show up in my dreams. I’d forgotten about them, in fact. So when they show up now, I blush. Deeply.
    Galen gives me a quizzical look, and for the fi rst time since he sat down, I notice his eyes. They’re blue. Not violet like mine, as they were on the beach. Or were they? I could have sworn Chloe commented on his eyes, but my subconscious might have made that up, the same way it makes up alternate endings. One thing’s for sure: I didn’t make up Galen’s habit of staring. Or the way it makes me blush.
    I face forward in my desk, fold my hands on top of it, and train my eyes on Mr. Pinner. He says, “Well, Mr. Forza, don’t forget where you’re sitting because that’s where you’ll be until next week.” He hands Galen a rule sheet.
    “Thank you, I won’t,” Galen tells him. A few giggles sprinkle
    —-1
    behind us. It is offi
    cial. Galen has a fan club.
    —0
    —+1
    • 39
    39 •
    105-48341_ch01_1P.indd 39
    8/23/11 3:44 PM
    As Mr. Pinner talks about . . . well, really I have no idea what he’s talking about. All I know is that the tingles give way to something else— fi re. Like there’s a stream of molten lava fl owing between my desk and Galen’s.
    “Ms. McIntosh?” Mr. Pinner says. And if I remember correctly, Ms. McIntosh is me.
    “Uh, sorry?” I say.
    “The Titanic, Ms. McIntosh,” he says, on the verge of exasperation. “Have any idea when it sank?”
    Ohmysweetgoodness, I do. I became obsessed with the Titanic for a good six months after we studied it last year. Last year, before I had a vendetta against history, the passage of time. “April fi fteen, 1912.”
    Mr. Pinner is instantly pleased. His thin lips open into a smile that makes him look toothless because his gums are so big. “Ah, we have a history buff . Very nice, Ms. McIntosh.” The bell rings. The bell rings? We’ve spent fi fty minutes in this class already?
    “Remember, people, study the rule sheet. Snuggle it at night, eat lunch with it, take it to the movies. It’s the only way you’re passing my class,” Mr. Pinner calls over the bustle of students herding out the door.
    I