Sliding On The Edge by C. Lee McKenzie Page B

her. And here she was,
sitting with a shotgun propped up against the floor and aimed at
her chest. What was so funny?
    “ Seems to me you ought to
have thought all that out before you settled yourself down to do
what it is you’re planning. If I was you, I’d put your wishes down
in writing and give them to me before you get on with this little
drama.”
    Kay laid the gun across her desk.
“Little drama,” she repeated, slumping back in her desk chair. She
looked up at Kenny, who was leaning against the doorjamb like he’d
dropped in for a Sunday visit. “It would be little, wouldn’t
it?”
    “ Afraid, so. Of course,
you’d sure have showed him, right? Well, you put down what you
want, and I’ll do it.” He pushed away from the door and took a step
back. “Oh, and you have to take the safety off if you want that gun
to fire.”
     
    She pulled the window closed and
returned to her seat across from Robby Green. He no longer
resembled her grade school chum or the high school president she’d
sat beside and tutored through algebra. And for that she was
grateful. She could pretend they didn’t know each other as she
faced him, her privacy stripped, her fear exposed. “What do you
suggest I do?”
    He reached across and put his hands
over hers. “I have several possible sources for help, and we’ll
work with you, too, so you won’t be alone dealing with this
crisis.”
    “ Shawna has English next
period. Do you want me to send her here?” Mrs. Heady
asked.
    “ Give Mrs. Stone and me some
time to go over options. Send her after class.” He scribbled on a
pink pad and handed Mrs. Heady the small slip of paper.
    Mrs. Heady rose, came around the
table, and stopped next to Kay. “She’s such a bright girl. I know
we can help her get through this.”
    Kay looked at their two
faces, so different from each other in all ways except for the
tightness around their mouths and the deep creases in their
foreheads. She could only imagine what her face must look like.
The Titanic had
just run into the iceberg.
     

Chapter 20
    Shawna
    “ Hey, Shawna!”
    I look behind me. The Sunday Boy with
the great jeans is coming my way. Now what? I should pretend I
don’t hear him, but like a jerk I’ve made eye contact already. I
lean against my locker and watch him as he weaves his way through
students on their way to class.
    He looks just like he does
every Sunday—T-shirt with rolled sleeves and the same kind of
jeans. He’s a head taller than most of the guys in the hall, and
seems older than the others in his senior class. Is it the way he clutches his books in the crook
of his arm? The easy way he walks or looks directly into people’s
eyes when he speaks to them? What do I like about him besides the
way his clothes fit? Wait, like him? Not in this
lifetime.
    “ Guess you’re in a hurry,”
he says, standing in front of me.
    “ Why?”
    “ You passed me like someone
late for a date. Didn’t you see me?”
    “ I wasn’t looking at
anybody. I’ve got English in a couple of minutes.” I put a hard
edge on my voice like I used to when Mom came home with a
new friend for me
to meet.
    “ You’re not easy to talk to.
Do you know that?”
    “ Never had any complaints
before.”
    “ Right.”
    “ Now that you’ve got my
attention, what do you want?” I work at sounding nicer than before,
but it doesn’t happen.
    “ Nothing. See you next
Sunday.” He walks down the hall and steps into a classroom before I
realize I have my mouth open to say something.
    “ Hell with you.” I twist the
combination on my locker, grab my English book, and slam the tinny
door. Get to English and forget Sunday
Boy.
    I can write an essay on the bazillion
reasons I hate guys, but do I have the time to waste? I edge into
my seat and lean back. My goal today is to count the ceiling tiles,
a simple multiplication problem, but Mrs. Heady is not her usual
five minutes late, so I pull myself up and prepare to plow my way
through another of