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Hawk Medicineby H.J. Lewis
1-55068-113-3 Click here for reading level. To read the beginning of Hawk Medicine, click here. Enjoy! Read an interview with the author, or visit her myspace page. Other Tea Leaf Press books by H.J. Lewis: Summer of Change Who is Mel Randall, Anyway? The Accidental Camper Distant Cousin Hidden Talent Hawk MedicineConnor Smith stared out at the dark sky. Rain was tapping steadily against the classroom window. It was a good rhythm. Connor drummed his fingers quietly on his desk, keeping time with the rain."Mr. Smith!" Connor stopped drumming. He looked up to see his teacher, Mr. Lowen, standing beside him. "Sir?" Connor said. "Perhaps you are in the wrong classroom," Mr. Lowen said loudly. "You seem to think this is music class." A few kids snickered. Connor ran one hand over his cropped, dark hair. He looked Mr. Lowen in the eye and waited. "Please keep in mind that this is English class and that your desk is not a musical instrument. Do I make myself clear?" "Yes, sir," Connor said. He didn't apologize. It was only the second week of September. He was still new at the school, and he didn't want to show any weakness. The other kids would never leave him alone if he did. Connor had moved around a lot. He had been "the new kid" enough times to know the rules. It was the same at every school. Mr. Lowen walked to the front of the classroom. "I hope you've all finished reading the short story I assigned. I like to make sure my students take their homework seriously. That's why, every once in a while, I give pop quizzes." He picked up a stack of papers from his desk and held them in the air. There were a few loud groans throughout the classroom. Suddenly, a huge crack of thunder split the air, rattling the windows. The girl sitting in front of Connor jumped. She quickly looked over her shoulder and gave Connor an embarrassed smile. Connor looked away and pretended not to notice. Ashling Kerr was the best-looking girl in grade eleven. At least, that was Connor's opinion. And he would keep that opinion to himself. Ashling was dating Troy Sellers, and Troy Sellers was not someone Connor wanted to mess with. Luckily, Connor's assigned seat in English class was right behind Ashling. He could look at her (or at least the back of her head) and no one would notice. She had long, straight, reddish-brown hair. Today, it was in a ponytail. Ashling seemed really nice, too, even though Connor had never really talked to her. Outside the window, lightning streaked across the sky. "Take one and pass the rest back," said Mr. Lowen. He handed quizzes to the students at the front of the class. The papers reached Ashling's desk. She turned and handed some to Connor. Their fingers touched, and an electric shock zapped between them. Ashling's light green eyes widened in surprise. She gave Connor a half-smile and shook her fingers. Then she quickly turned around again. Lightning flashed again, followed by another loud crack of thunder. The lights flickered off and on. "Mr. Lowen!" someone called. "We can't have a test if there's a power failure." "If there is a power failure, Karl, I will postpone the test. For now, let's carry on." Mr. Lowen looked around the room. "You have ten minutes." "Ten minutes?" a girl asked. "That's not enough time to write a test!" "You now have nine minutes and forty-five seconds," said Mr. Lowen. Connor quickly filled in the multiple-choice quiz. He quietly drummed on his knee with one hand and listened to the rain outside. When the time was up, the students passed their papers forward. Connor handed a stack of quizzes to Ashling. Their fingers touched again, and Connor felt another zap. Ashling gave him a funny look. "It's because of the storm," Connor mumbled. Ashling ignored him and turned around in her seat. Suddenly, Connor wanted to go home. He was sick of this stupid school and not talking to anybody. He was sick of being new and not having any friends. There was no point in making friends, either, because his mom would just end up moving again at the end of the year. Maybe even before that. At least this was the last class of the day. Connor sighed and stared out the window. The rhythm of the rain had changed--it was slower, lighter. The sound of it seemed to drown out the homework assignment Mr. Lowen was giving out. When the bell rang, Connor was the first one out the door. Troy Sellers was waiting for Ashling in the hall, holding some books and a football. He was a big guy--just the right size for a linebacker. Troy was telling a crude joke to the beefy-looking guy standing next to him. His friend grunted with laughter and slapped Troy on the back. What is it about guys who play football? Connor wondered to himself. Girls always seem to go for them, even if they're total jerks. Connor hated football. Basketball, now that was a real sport. Connor was built for it--he was tall, strong, and quick on his feet. Unfortunately, he couldn't try out for the team. He had to get an after-school job instead. Once he started working, he wouldn't have much time for practices or games. Sometimes Connor hated his life. The rain had stopped by the time he got outside. He avoided puddles as he walked to the bike rack. It took him a few minutes to open the rusty lock on his mountain bike. By the time he was ready to go, crowds of students were coming out the front doors of the school. Connor spotted Ashling and Troy, so he ducked down and pretended to check his front tire. He watched as the couple walked arm in arm through the parking lot to Troy's red sports car. Troy opened the passenger door for Ashling. Connor stopped watching. Some guys have all the luck, he thought, shaking his head. Would Ashling like me if I had a sports car? he wondered. Connor was saving up to buy a good drum kit. Maybe I should be saving up for a car instead. Maybe in a million years I'll have enough money to buy one. Troy's car screeched out of the parking lot and fishtailed onto the street. Why don't you just focus on reality, Connor told himself angrily. He put on his helmet and backpack and hopped on his bike. At least his method of transportation kept him in really good shape. He made his way out of the parking lot and rode slowly toward home. Connor was glad to get away from school, but the reality of going home was not appealing. His mom would be at work, so the house would be empty and quiet. Boxes were piled everywhere, even though they had moved in a few weeks ago. There would be a note on the table from his mom, telling him which frozen dinner to heat up. Connor rode his bike for about ten minutes. He crossed a set of railway tracks and came to a crossroads at the edge of town. He started to turn left, the way he always went, but then he put on his brakes. If he went that way, he would be home in just a few minutes. He looked straight ahead. A long, empty dirt road stretched out in front of him, leading into the countryside. He kept going straight. Home, and reality, could wait. |
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