Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131789 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“They’re having dinner,” someone answers from the front row like a good little dog.
“Yes, but remember we’re talking about subtext. So with that in mind, the author is giving us clues to their intent. What are some of the words that stand out to you in this scene?”
“Slit.” Lawson chews on the end of a pen beside me.
“Alright.” Pleased to get some engagement in the discussion, Goodwyn jumps off the desk to scrawl the word on the white board. “What else?”
“Rigid,” Lawson says. “Meat.”
The class is quick on the uptake and mumbles out some laughter while our teacher fearlessly adds the word to the list.
“Mr. Kent.” He turns around to level a playfully chiding look at Lawson.
“Yessir?”
“We’re always grateful for your insights. How do you read the subtext of this scene and the author’s intent?”
“Kind of sounds like they’re saying the narrator wants to fuck their family.”
The laughter isn’t shy this time. Mr. Goodwyn gives him a tolerant smile before holding his hands up to quiet the room.
“Perhaps you could find more eloquent vocabulary and tell us what clues you see in the text?”
“Listen, we still don’t know if this is really their family, right?” Lawson says. “The main character shows up and suddenly the mom is opening up boxes of clothes in the attic from college and the dad is a depressed shut-in probably sharpening axes in the garage. But we get to this dinner and it’s like eight pages of describing the wet fleshy meat or whatever. That reads to me like sexual tension.”
I’m not totally oblivious to subtext, either. Though lately I’m more interested in the apparent flirtation happening between Lawson and our esteemed English teacher. These two go at it every class like the rest of us aren’t even here.
SLOANE: Could be worse. At least you don’t have to attend chapel. I can livestream Sister Katherine’s lecture on modesty for you.
ME: Hard pass. I’m watching Lawson seduce our English teacher. Kinda hilarious.
SLOANE: That boy is so slutty it’s almost impressive.
With Mr. Goodwyn otherwise distracted, I’ve been texting with Sloane. We text nonstop now, despite her insistence that I haven’t earned a second date with her yet. Operative word being yet. I’m becoming addicted to our chats, and I have a feeling she is too, though she’d probably never admit it, not even at gunpoint. Which, of course, is why I like her so much.
SLOANE: By the way… Heard you’re shopping for Speedos.
ME: WTF?
SLOANE: Rumor has it you’re joining the swim team.
ME: Like hell. I’m not about to strut around in public with my junk stuffed in a pair of nut-huggers.
SLOANE: Don’t sell yourself short.
ME: You don’t have to buy a ticket, cupcake. You can just ask.
“Are we distracting you, Mr. Shaw?”
I glance up from my phone to see Mr. Goodwyn with his arms crossed. Busted.
“He’s searching incest porn.” Carter twists around from the chair in front of me to deliver the taunt.
“Nah,” I say. “Just looking up a good sex addiction therapist for Lawson.”
Lawson winks at me. “I’d like to see them try.”
Duke’s best friend and favorite lapdog sneers when he doesn’t get a rise out of me. Honestly, I wonder how sincere his hatred is if he can’t muster a better effort. This is some amateur-level bullying. I’d expect more from a private school hoodlum.
“Alright, people. Back on task.” Goodwyn retreats to his desk again, sorry he bothered. Secretly, I think our teacher enjoys the Lord of the Flies dynamic of this over-indulged group of self-obsessed dicks with teeth.
After class Lawson and I are heading in the same direction. I’ve got gym next and the dread is real.
“They’ve got us playing field hockey today,” I groan, checking the schedule on my phone. “Kill me.”
“You know the way to end your suffering.” Lawson slides on a pair of sunglasses as we step outside into the blistering sunlight. “Just give in, man.”
“Not you, too.” Seems like everyone is prodding me about this swimming bullshit today.
“Hey, it couldn’t be easier. A few seconds in the water and you’re a legend. Stay in your lane and only worry about yourself. Simple.”
“Come on, it’s a little more complicated than that.”
Lawson flashes that lazy grin of his. “Really? You think they’d trust me in there doing rocket surgery? We’re not handling plutonium, man. It’s just swimming.”
I can’t argue him there. I’ve only known him a couple weeks and I’ve already seen him strolling into class hungover and strung out more than once. If he can muster the capacity to bang out a few laps in the pool, it can’t be that hard. At the very least, it’s got to be less painful than gym, right?
I let Lawson go ahead when my phone vibrates and I see my mom’s calling.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, buddy. Glad I caught you.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” There’s a pause, and for a second I’m furiously running around in my brain trying to figure out what I’ve done. “Feels like we haven’t talked in ages. You still at school?”