Cheater A High School f f Romance 1st

Edition Clara Ann Simons Sonia Bellido

Aguirre
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmeta.com/product/cheater-a-high-school-f-f-romance-1st-edition-clara-a
nn-simons-sonia-bellido-aguirre/
More products digital (pdf, epub, mobi) instant
download maybe you interests ...

Agent Walker - A Lesbian Romance Novel (Special Agent

Alicia Walker Series - Book I) 2nd Edition Clara Ann
Simons

https://ebookmeta.com/product/agent-walker-a-lesbian-romance-
novel-special-agent-alicia-walker-series-book-i-2nd-edition-
clara-ann-simons/

A Gay Polyester High School Romance (Gay Polyester High

School Romance 1) 1st Edition S.W. Ballenger

https://ebookmeta.com/product/a-gay-polyester-high-school-
romance-gay-polyester-high-school-romance-1-1st-edition-s-w-
ballenger/

Biology 9 S■n■f High School 2nd Edition S. Halime

Elk■rm■■

https://ebookmeta.com/product/biology-9-sinif-high-school-2nd-
edition-s-halime-elkirmis/

CrissCrossed A Dark High School Bully Romance 1st

Edition Sasha Rc

https://ebookmeta.com/product/crisscrossed-a-dark-high-school-
bully-romance-1st-edition-sasha-rc/
S I L F Santa I d Like to F A BBW Billionaire Boss
Christmas Romance A Filthy Dirty Christmas 1st Edition
Lana Love

https://ebookmeta.com/product/s-i-l-f-santa-i-d-like-to-f-a-bbw-
billionaire-boss-christmas-romance-a-filthy-dirty-christmas-1st-
edition-lana-love/

What You weren t Taught in Sunday School 1st Edition

Jerald F Dirks

https://ebookmeta.com/product/what-you-weren-t-taught-in-sunday-
school-1st-edition-jerald-f-dirks/

The Only Purple House in Town (Fix-It Witches 4) 1st

Edition Ann Aguirre

https://ebookmeta.com/product/the-only-purple-house-in-town-fix-
it-witches-4-1st-edition-ann-aguirre/

Sex Habits A Buschke F Jacobsohn

https://ebookmeta.com/product/sex-habits-a-buschke-f-jacobsohn/

Reorienting a Nation 1st Edition John F. Martin

https://ebookmeta.com/product/reorienting-a-nation-1st-edition-
john-f-martin/
 Cheater

Young adult f/f romance novel

Sonia Bellido Aguirre

Clara Ann Simons
 Cheater
Young adult f/f romance novel
Sonia Bellido Aguirre
Clara Ann Simons
Copyright © 2022 by Sonia Bellido Aguirre and Clara Ann
Simons.
All rights reserved.
Registered on 08/26/2022 under number 2208261863947
All rights reserved. No part of this material may be
reproduced in any form or by any means without the express
permission of the authors. This includes, but is not limited to,
reprints, excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any other means
of reproduction, including electronic means.
All the characters, situations between them and events that
appear in the book are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.
The cover is presented for illustrative purposes, the
characters that appear are models and are not related to the
book, the authors or the theme of the work.
For more information, or if you would like to know about
new publications, please contact us via email at
soniabellido02@gmail.com or claraannsimons@gmail.com.
Twitter: @AguirreBellido @ClaraAnnSimons1
Index
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
 Chapter 1
CELIA
Rachel leans over to me and whispers, “That fucking asshole
is staring at you again.”
I close my eyes and let out a sigh of despair. How I could
have offended Lucas Jones in a previous life is unclear.
The jerk has it all. He’s handsome, tall, strong, and the
quarterback of the high school football team. But above all, he’s
dating Harper Harris, or Double H as we call her. I only dream
about her. At night when I fall asleep, I imagine watching her
score point after point when she plays basketball at school.
Rachel knows, but only Rachel.
Harper has been my crush ever since the first time I felt the
hormones coursing through my body. It’s not like she could ever
notice someone like me; for starters, she’s totally straight and
seems to be very, very much in love with her stupid boyfriend.
To continue, I don’t think we’ve exchanged a single word in the
three and a half years we’ve been studying at the same school.
I doubt she even knows my name or that I exist. I’m invisible to
her and to many others.
And I wish that I was also invisible to her stupid boyfriend. I
wish I could get inside his head one day to know what’s going
on in his tiny brain. I’d like to understand why he makes my life
a living hell. Not only have I never done anything to him, but I
try at all costs to avoid him. Maybe, once his two neurons
connected, they activated and said, “I remember this girl from
another life. She offended me there,” or perhaps he might have
mistaken me for someone else. Or, most likely, I’m an easy
target for his jokes to make his friends laugh. Some of them are
even dumber than he is if that’s even possible.
“Can you imagine being that pathetic?” jokes one of the
football players, pointing his chin in our direction.
His unimaginative comment arouses a series of jibes about
my physique or lack of financial means. I was unlucky enough
to fall into this high school by pure chance. I live with my
mother in a two-room mobile home because, since my father
left us, she hardly makes enough money to support us both. In
a stroke of terrible luck, representatives of the city council
reviewed the boundaries of various districts. By a hundred
yards, my area had been designated as part of this high school.
The irony is that this high school covers the city’s wealthiest
areas, so almost all of my classmates are wealthy. Rachel and
some other students like her, have never flaunted the privileges
that their parents’ money has provided them. In contrast, other
students, such as Lucas, not only exhibit their advantages but
also look down on me for not living up to their lifestyles, as if I
chose to be born into a poor family.
“Let's get the hell out of here,” Rachel says, grabbing me by
the elbow as the jokes and laughter grow louder and louder into
hurtful stabs.
Fortunately, a glimpse stops the taunts in their tracks. With
her perfect smile and moving with the elegance of a feline,
Harper Harris seems to glide past us like a true Greek goddess.
Of course, she hasn’t even noticed us, but at least the laughter
has stopped.
I feel sick watching Lucas Jones kiss Harper’s perfect mouth
in front of his buddies. He gropes her butt without any regard
for their being surrounded by his friends.
Rachel grabs my arm and leads me to a safer area. “Celia,
you’ll get sick if you keep this up.”
As we walk, my head becomes an intellectual playground of
ideas, questioning why Harper Harris would choose an idiot like
Lucas Jones. A girl who is so beautiful that she could literally
date anyone in this high school. Someone who, if she just says
one word to me, would make me die of love.
“Are you coming to my place to watch a movie this
afternoon?” Rachel asks, interrupting my thoughts.
“We have a physics test tomorrow,” I reply dryly, not taking
my eyes off Harper.
“It starts to show too much. It’s not that Harper Harris is one
rung above us; it’s the whole ladder. It’s best if you forget about
her. If her boyfriend finds out you like her, your current
problems will seem minor compared to what you’ll face,” Rachel
warns, lifting her eyebrows.
I shake my head, trying to ignore the image of Harper Harris
haunting my thoughts, and tell Rachel again that I need to
study for tomorrow’s physics test. I need a perfect grade. At our
school, there is a scholarship named after Andrew Jones that
awards ten thousand dollars to the student who graduates with
the highest GPA at the end of their senior year.
If you think it’s a cruel coincidence that the scholarship giver
has the same family name as that idiot Lucas Jones, you haven’t
considered the situation very closely yet. It’s no coincidence.
The scholarship was set up by his paternal grandfather,
although, yes, it is cruel.
In any case, that fucking scholarship is, in practice, my only
chance to go to college. Even if it’s at the local university, which
doesn’t have much prestige, I’d consider it a dream. It’s ironic
that thanks to their families’ money, my classmates will be able
to choose top colleges, while I must win the academic
scholarship to simply continue my education. I guess that’s life;
if you must choose between having money and being smart,
you should choose the money.
“You're missing out on the best years of your life,” points out
Rachel as if I don’t know this already.
Most of the students are either going out to the park and
having outdoor fun or spending the afternoons on sports teams.
In contrast, I spend hours upon hours pouring drinks at a local
restaurant. Not that I’d be picked to be on any team because
I’m rather clumsy. Still, I wouldn’t object to the part of having
fun after class.
“Will you at least come to the basketball game on Saturday,”
Rachel asks as she orders a green tea from the school cafeteria.
“You know the answer,” I assure her, grinning like an idiot.
Girls’ basketball is the only sport our school manages to
qualify for the final round of the state championship. They say
they might even make it to the national championship this year.
Every game is a party, the school pavilion is full of people, and
the wooden stands have been expanded to accommodate the
surge of attendees. It competes with football in the number of
spectators, which is unheard of in any other high school in the
country.
And, how could I miss one of those games? Not that I like
basketball, but Harper Harris is the team’s star. She was already
a starter on her sophomore year and has improved, becoming
the team’s most crucial player. The team doesn’t look the same
the few times she’s been injured. Without Harper, the players
wander around the court without much direction. She’s a force
of will, more than anything else. Without her, they lack a clear
goal. Or maybe that’s how I see it.
I heard that a knee injury had prematurely cut her father’s
NBA career. Anyway, the truth is that she lives and breathes
basketball; she spends at least an hour after every practice
shooting free throws or three-pointers. College scouts visit her
every game, looking to recruit her for next season.
I can’t tell if she’s affected by the pressure or not, but my
heart goes out to her every time she gets between her
opponents to score a point. I’m convinced that every one of her
mistakes hurts me more than it does her.
Harper Harris, what the fuck! Maybe Rachel’s right, and I
should just stop thinking about that girl.
 Chapter 2
CELIA
I pedal my bike to the mobile home where I live with my
mother, leaving the high school behind me via a back road.
Rachel has offered more than once to pick me up and drop me
off each day. After all, I’m the only senior who still rides a bike.
I wouldn’t mind if we lived next door to each other. In fact, I’d
love it because in the winter months, with the rain, it’s a real
pain in the ass. However, I hate to force her to take a twenty-
minute detour to pick me up, and the traffic is heavy at that
time of day.
My head is spinning over tomorrow’s physics exam. This is,
without a doubt, the most challenging subject of the academic
year. A subject that I’ve always liked, but my teacher makes it
impossible to understand. Fortunately, everyone is struggling
with the test, not just me. That will help me get the highest GPA
and the scholarship that will let me go to college.
It hurts me so much to watch my mother wither away as she
works extra shifts at her job to support us. My father left home
when I was a year old. Caring for a baby wasn’t compatible with
the binge drinking and partying that filled his life. He also
refused to give up the freedom to sleep with other women
whenever he had the chance.
Since then, my mother had to work hard to provide for both
of us and put food on our table every day. We have lived with
just the bare essentials, but I have never lacked anything. Still, I
remember the nightmares I used to have in which my mother
got sick and couldn’t work. I dreamt that we would run out of
money and the nights would be endless, without sleep.
Things have improved since I started working as a waitress
after school when I turned sixteen. That extra money I bring
home helps us a lot, but it takes away from my study time.
Fuck, I need that damn scholarship. I don’t want the same kind
of life my mother has.
 “Good afternoon, Princess,” my mother greets me as soon as
she sees me walk through the door. The same greeting for as
long as I can remember.
“Hi, Mom,” I reply as I pull my backpack off my shoulder and
throw it on my bed. I’m ready to make myself a sandwich and a
good load of coffee to get me through the night of studying I
have ahead of me.
“A quiet night of sitting on the couch, under a blanket,
watching TV?” my mother asks hopefully, pointing to an old
armchair opposite to an even older television.
Usually, both my mother and I are at work at this time, but on
Thursdays, she only does one shift. I rest, so we profit from
every chance we get to snuggle together on the couch and
watch whatever is on TV. It’s one of those rituals that has been
a tradition between my mother and me for years: a moment of
mother-daughter bonding that manages to relax me in the
frenetic pace of my everyday life.
Although my friend Rachel tries, she doesn’t understand the
sacrifices I have to make to maintain my GPA and hold a part-
time job simultaneously. She doesn’t work or play any sports.
She just sits around being bored all day. Boredom would be a
real treat for me.
“I can’t this afternoon, Mom,” I apologize as I shrug my
shoulders. “We have a physics exam tomorrow, and you know
how complicated that subject is.”
My mother nods her head, her sadness palpable, but does not
try to convince me. There’s no point in insisting. She knows
exactly what I want, what my goals are, and the importance of
getting the scholarship so I can continue studying. All she says
is that she’s very proud of me.
After assuring her that I’ll get some sleep, I lock myself in my
room with a pot of coffee, determined to learn the lessons so
well that I can answer any question on the first try.
Two hours into my studies, the gravitational field becomes a
nightmare. I understand its theory, but my calculus exercises
get stuck, and I still have to study the Gauus theorem and the
electromagnetic interaction.
I try to concentrate, to no avail. I cover my face with my
hands, tear up, and shove cotton wool in my ears to block out
the TV noise. The walls of our mobile home are made of
plasterboard without any insulation, and I can hear the TV as if
I were sitting on the sofa next to my mother.
Luckily, when it gets close to midnight, my mother turns off
the TV and goes to sleep. The sound of silence reigns. Once the
weekend is over, I’m left with an overwhelming calm. The only
sounds I hear are the barking of a dog in the distance and the
occasional car passing by. All our neighbors wake up early to
work.
The topic of the electromagnetic interaction is death itself.
Ampère’s law, Faraday-Henry’s law, Lenz’s law. How many laws
have they developed for this dreadful subject? Fatigue begins to
take its toll on my concentration, and the subject no longer
enters my mind as easily. Almost at four in the morning, I give
up studying and go to sleep in the hope that if the test is
difficult for me, it will be impossible for the rest of my
classmates.
 Chapter 3
CELIA
The alarm on my cell phone starts ringing at the exact
moment when I was kissing Harper in my dreams. Life isn’t fair.
I could almost feel her soft lips on mine, the warmth of her right
hand on my cheek, and my heart was beating faster as she
moved closer to me without brushing against my skin.
I groan as I reach for my cell phone and turn off the alarm.
Then, I drop onto the bed, still with my eyes closed and a
tingling sensation in my lower belly.
Harper. Each time her boyfriend kisses her perfect mouth, he
commits sacrilege without being aware of it, without even being
grateful for how lucky he is to be by her side.
I throw on the first sweatshirt I can find as I rush out of the
house without even giving myself time to shower. I’m too late as
I try remembering my dream, trying to relive the sensations I
felt when the alarm went off and I opened my eyes.
Shit! I walk into school, breathing hard from the effort I’ve
made not to be late. The teacher is closing the door, and I rush
to get inside.
As I start reading the test questions, I cover my face with my
hands and sigh. Two or three of the students groan and throw a
blank test on the teacher’s desk, cursing quietly under their
breath.
I give a quick glance before I start answering the questions,
and I can tell from the look on my classmates’ faces that they’re
desperate. They shake their heads, sigh, and look pale. They
gawk at the test without understanding a single word. Only
Harper has begun to write. There is a smile on her mouth as if
she thinks the exam is easy.
One by one, students leave the classroom with crestfallen
faces, some of them wiping tears, others unemotional. Time is
running fast. As I sit in the last row of my classroom, I keep my
pencil moving across the multiple choice section of the exam,
racing to get as many correct as possible before the shrill ring of
the bell that marks the end of the class. Still, I try to squeeze
time until the teacher tells me I must hand in the exam.
As I leave the classroom, a chill runs through my body. I
know I haven’t done a perfect exam. I missed a few things in
one of the theoretical questions, and I was stuck on one of the
practical problems. In addition, I had no time to do one of the
problems altogether. If I had slept better and longer and had
been more rested, I might have done better. In any case, no
one can have done a good exam since my classmates are not
precisely known for their love of sacrifice. They’ve had life too
easy.
“I swear it’s the hardest test I’ve ever taken,” Rachel assures
me. “I’ll be lucky to get a D,” she says as we sit at our usual
table in the school cafeteria.
She has ordered a double espresso for me to sweeten my
day, as she says. Rachel has been funding my coffee addiction,
and I can’t thank her enough. I wish I could do it myself, but
every penny I make goes to help out at home or pay for my
college tuition next year. She is a great friend. In an
unwelcoming school, she is a lifeline. I don’t know what I would
have done without her.
At the next table, the girls from the basketball team laugh as
they talk about the exam. They are oblivious to any worries as
they swap stories about the test; all of them are wearing the
same jacket and matching green shirts.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Harper
exclaims. She stretches her arms upward as she rolls her eyes.
“I thought it was super easy. I think I did perfectly.”
Norris, the huge team’s center, tries to break the ice with a
joke. “If you get an A,” she says, “you’re screwing the teacher
because you were shooting hoops after practice yesterday.”
Harper doesn’t respond. She just smiles and shrugs, tapping
her teammate on the shoulder but not denying it. Rubbing my
eyes, I shake my head vigorously, as I try to get out of my mind
the image of the physics teacher touching her perfect naked
body. I must force myself not to throw up the coffee.
 I can’t believe she said the exam was easy. She’s always been
a decent student, but she hasn’t gone beyond that. Her priority
is basketball, and she’ll get a scholarship at the school of her
choice if she avoids injuries by the end of the season. She just
has to stay out of trouble and avoid failing her courses.
Harper was the first to begin answering questions as if the
difficulty didn’t surprise her. Still, I suppose it’s just because she
consistently exhibits such confidence in everything she does,
not because she knew how to answer.
The peace in the cafeteria ceases as soon as the idiots from
the football team enter the room. They occupy their usual table.
No one in their right mind would dare sit at it. It’s “cool kids
village,” as Rachel calls it. Only they or their girlfriends can sit
there. One of the girls from the basketball team signals Harper
that Lucas has entered; his stupid jokes can be heard from a
mile away. She smiles and waves at him, blowing a kiss, but she
doesn’t leave her seat at the table. Shit, life is not fair!
 Chapter 4
CELIA
As expected, my physics exam results are less than perfect,
earning me a B+ instead of an A. From the despairing faces of
my classmates and the snorts escaping from their mouths, it’s
obvious the grades have been a disaster. I glance sideways at
Rachel, who shrugs and gestures, indicating that she got a D,
though she doesn’t seem too upset. My friend isn’t a bad
student at all, so compared to her score, my B+ is starting to
feel like an excellent grade.
The teacher stands up from the table, smiles, and says, “I’d
like to recognize a girl who performed brilliantly on today’s
exam.”
I hate it when teachers put me on the spot in front of the
other students! They don’t realize that the only thing they get
with that kind of recognition is that my classmates hate me
even more than they usually do. I just want to stay out of
trouble until I go to college and enjoy a more open-minded
environment. Whenever a teacher talks about my good grades
in class, it only worsens my situation for a few days.
The physics teacher claps her hands together with a gesture
that borders on the ridiculous. “Congratulations, Harper,” she
says. “It’s been years since I’ve seen a perfect test in my class.”
My soul falls to the ground. Literally. I turn my gaze to Rachel,
looking for some support in her eyes, so I don’t burst into tears.
She shakes her head in shock and waves for me to calm down. I
take a deep breath and close my eyes as I press my quaking
hands together under the table. My heart is pounding in my
chest as I restrain myself from breaking down into tears.
Without being able to help it, I consider how Harper might
have a chance of getting the scholarship. If they counted all the
subjects, I think she wouldn’t have a chance. Memorizing isn’t
really her thing; in history or literature, I’m clearly better.
However, the scholarship is based on specific skills that our
school emphasizes. Basically, math and science.
 I think that Harper is still far behind me in geometry and
biology, but she’s closing the gap with this test. Still, I start to
get nervous. This is so fucking unfair. I need that scholarship;
without it, I can’t attend college. Harper has easy access to
college because she’s great at playing basketball, and her father
was a professional player who made a lot of money in his prime.
I am not used to being outperformed in my grades. I have
only been beaten in my classes four or five times over the three
and a half years of high school. Still, what I never thought
possible was that I’d have to compete with Harper Harris for the
scholarship. She wasn’t kidding when she said that the exam
seemed easy. I just hope that her teammate’s comment wasn’t
true.
As soon as the bell rings, I’m out of my seat and heading for
the restrooms. Rachel lets out a small sigh and shakes her
head, but she doesn’t try to follow or stop me. She knows that
I’ll lock the door and cry. I’ll cry my eyes out until the next
class.
Desperate, I lock myself in the first empty stall I can find,
pulling the latch on the door. I cry helplessly, biting so hard on
my lower lip that I taste blood. It’s a habit I developed when I
was a child. Whenever I encounter a stressful situation, I bite
my lip until it hurts.
There’s no way I can stand to lose that scholarship. It’s the
only way I can go to college. Fuck. This is so unfair. I thought
that no one would surpass me at this point in the semester, and
I never expected it to be Harper. Now, there’s only the final
exam left and a project that counts for thirty percent of the
science grade. That science project is a great injustice because
it’s done in pairs, and I’ll usually have to do all the work myself
if I want to get an A.
Besides, some parents help their kids to finish it, but no one
can help me. My mother has no technical knowledge, nor are
there any engineers among her friends or family. Even the types
of projects I can choose will be constrained by the materials I
can afford without spending a lot of money.
 What the fuck! I clench my fists in anger until the knuckles
turn white and my cheeks overflow with tears. It takes me a
while to recover, and I wipe my tears with the sleeve of my
sweatshirt. When I stop crying, I hear laughter from the stall
next door.
I look up and watch two of my classmates with a cell phone
pointed in my direction. They probably find my suffering very
amusing. I look away, angry at their mockery and afraid of what
they might do with the video they’d taken. I don’t understand
why the Principal doesn’t seem to take the ban on filming other
students seriously.
Unfortunately for me, I imagine it won’t take long for the
video to spread among all the students. My classmates will get a
lovely shot of me crying in the bathroom, locked up like a fool
for getting a B. One more reason to make fun of the school’s
weirdo.
I hate my life, and I hate this school!
 Chapter 5
CELIA
As soon as I leave the restroom and start wandering the
school hallways, I feel the stares of all the students at me. The
constant whispering and giggling starts to get on my nerves
until Rachel approaches me and, taking me by the elbow, leads
me to a less occupied area.
I sigh as I ask my question, even though I already know the
answer. “They’re already sharing the video, aren’t they?”
“Yeah,” Rachel says, swallowing hard.
“Have many people seen it?”
“They’ve posted it on all the social networks and are sharing
it on message groups. Should we talk to the Principal?” my
friend asks, raising her eyebrows.
“You know as well as I do that Principal Morgan won’t do
anything at all. At most, he’ll pass a statement saying this kind
of thing is not allowed, but he won’t take any action. The fucked
up thing is that I know perfectly well who filmed it because I
saw her doing it. I’d rather let it die. They’ll get over it sooner or
later. Not that I’m the first girl who cries over her grades,” I
admit with a shrug.
“I don’t know how to begin to tell you this, Celia,” my friend’s
voice shakes. “They made up a story that you asked out a
straight girl, and she said no, so you’re devastated,” Rachel
explains. Her eyes dart across the floor.
I sigh. “That’s not true,” I defend myself.
“You and I know it, but the rest of the people don’t.”
“What’s the big deal?” I ask. “Even if it was true. Laura
Jordan spent a month crying when she proposed to Kevin, and
he said no; big deal. She didn’t have any cameras or anything
filming her. So, why do I have to be a spectacle for the rest of
the school?” I say, wondering why they are doing this to me.
“The harassment comes from the usual crowd,” she says. “I
swear I don’t know what that asshole Lucas Jones has against
you. You’ve never stared at Harper’s tits in the girls’ locker
room, have you?” Rachel asks. Her eyes widen.
“No, fuck no. I’m very careful not to look up in the locker
room. I have enough problems already in this place,” I answer,
agitated.
Rachel shakes her head and says, “It’s no surprise that you’re
looking forward to the end of the school year and never seeing
him again.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t get that scholarship, I won’t care
whether I finish high school or not because I won’t be able to
go to college. I think that’s reason enough to cry,” I admit,
looking up and biting the wound on my lower lip again.
“Fuck, there’s no way you won’t win the scholarship. Harper
can’t catch up unless she suddenly gets straight A’s. She won’t
because her only brain cell is dedicated to her basketball-scoring
obsession,” Rachel jokes, trying to cheer me up.
Closing my eyes, I let out a breath, aware of how much my
life could change if Harper suddenly improves all her grades.
Rachel says she’s dumb, but she’s not. Harper’s always seemed
like a really smart girl. She’s just always been more focused on
basketball than studying. I don’t understand how she managed
an A+ on her physics exam, but if she did, she’d be able to get
the same grade in all her science classes.
***
The rest of the afternoon I spend with my heart in my throat.
At times I get anxiety attacks thinking that Harper might
improve her grades and catch up with mine. I eat a few bites of
dinner but can hardly swallow. I’m so tired; I just go straight to
bed and collapse. Even though I’m exhausted, I cannot get a
good night’s sleep. Last night’s beautiful dream of me kissing
Harper turns into nightmares that wake me up in a sweat and
prevent me from getting enough rest.
The effects of the viral video from the day before still linger
today. I’m trying my best not to let it affect me, but it still does.
Fortunately, the universe has heard my prayers because what I
find when I walk into science class is nothing like what I
expected.
The science teacher stands at the front of the class and clears
his throat to get our attention. “Yesterday, we had a teachers’
meeting, and I decided to slightly change the rules for this
year’s science project. As you know, the science project is worth
thirty percent of the final grade. Normally, I always let the
students do the project in freely chosen pairs. However, this
year the science project grade could decide the winner of the
Jones Scholarship. Because of this, Celia and Harper will do the
project together to avoid the final GPA being affected due to
external factors,” explains the science teacher, leaving me
stunned.
I’m startled; I wasn’t expecting our science teacher to make
such a bold move. I watch Rachel’s reaction; she looks as
confused as I am. But when I look at Harper and see her
beautiful smile, everything else fades away. Fuck, that’s the first
time she’s smiled at me. I feel like I’m about to faint.
I think the teacher’s decision is fair. Rachel and I were going
to work on the project together, and Harper would either work
with her boyfriend or Rose, one of the forwards on her
basketball team. In either case, she’d be out of luck because
neither of her two potential partners has half a brain cell.
Still, what worried me the most was that someone would do
the science project for them. They come from wealthy families,
so they could ask someone they know or pay someone else to
do it. It wouldn’t be ethical, but I wouldn’t be surprised either.
By doing this, Harper and I will both have the exact same
grade, so everything will be decided in the remaining exams.
Harper looks up at me with a beautiful smile that makes my
legs tremble. “We’ll have to start thinking about what kind of
project we’re doing,” she says.
It’s the first time she’s spoken to me. I gasp as if my breath
has been knocked out of me and the words refuse to leave my
throat. I can’t speak. Her sky blue eyes bore into my own. I nod
slightly, like an idiot, as if I don’t know how to talk.
 Harper leans closer to me and proposes, “We could meet for a
little while after my practice ends. What do you think? That way,
we’ll get to decide the type of project and how we’ll get
organized.”
“Seven o’clock at my place?” I ask without thinking.
I am just finishing my sentence when I realize what a stupid
thing I’ve just done. The smell of her perfume has made me so
nervous that I’m not thinking straight. My mobile home is
nothing compared to the mansions most of my classmates live
in. I’ve never taken anyone home except Rachel. We won’t even
have any privacy, my mother will be in the house, and you can
hear everything. Fuck, Harper has never even been in my
neighborhood, not even close.
I open my mouth to correct my blunder. Still, before I can say
anything, Harper has already agreed to my proposal and is
taking out a pen so she can write my address. Rachel gives me
an amused grin across the table, which I politely ignore.
First time in my life I talk to Harper, and I screw up.
 Chapter 6
CELIA
Shit, shit, shit!
I clean up my room as fast as I can before Harper gets home
from her practice. I beg my mom to make a quick trip to the
grocery store for food and something to drink, which she does
reluctantly after lecturing me on having friends over without
asking first.
I curse the moment I got stuck and asked her to come. The
logical thing to do would have been to meet Harper at her
place; I live in a shoebox by comparison. But now it’s too late to
back out. The clock ticks seven, and I start to feel frantic,
worried about what she will think of my house. Nothing seems
to calm me down.
The light tap of knuckles on the door brings me out of my
thoughts, and I return to reality. Punctual as a Swiss watch,
even when knocking on the door, Harper keeps her elegance.
Her Mini Cooper convertible is entirely out of place next to the
crumbling buildings in my neighborhood. I just hope no one
steals or scratches it.
“Hi,” Harper greets with her everlasting smile.
Her hair is still wet from the recent shower after practice,
making her even sexier in my eyes. As she enters, Harper
sweeps her gaze across the house before her eyes land on me,
and my face feels like it’s going to explode from embarrassment.
Used to her friends’ fancy homes, this must be like a shack.
“Did you have trouble finding the house?” I ask in a hushed
voice.
“I used the GPS, but I have to admit I’ve never been to this
part of town before,” Harper says with a shrug.
My mother leans in and initiates small talk to break the ice
since I’ve been as quiet as a fool, flustered and shaking. I’d
imagined what it would be like to be alone with Harper for a
million different scenarios. Still, I never thought we’d do it for a
science project. In my imagination, I was always over her naked
body, under her, or pressed against a wall with Harper behind
me. Never in my imagination did either of us have clothes on.
“I’m going to leave you two alone for a while so you can
discuss your project calmly. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” My
mother winks at us as she gets up from the couch.
I stare at Harper, confused, trying to come up with something
witty to say. If I already have a reputation as a weirdo in high
school, I’m killing it now. Not that I had any chance with this
girl before, but now it’s obvious I have even less of a chance
despite how attractive I might find her; she must think I’m a
complete moron.
“Did you think about anything yet?” Harper asks suddenly,
breaking the ice.
“A miniature Tesla tower?” I answer, lowering my gaze.
“I understand that the experiment will destroy any electronic
devices nearby. If we ruin all the cell phones in the school, we’ll
be left without friends. Besides, it generates extremely high
electrical currents, and I wouldn’t want to be struck by lightning
if we mess something up,” she jokes, arching her eyebrows and
drawing a beautiful smile.
I nod. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be nice to die for a science project,”
I concede, letting out a small smile.
Harper starts explaining her idea. “What if we set up an
aquaculture system where we could raise fish and grow lettuce
without soil? Both the fish and the lettuce would be raised
without waste or pollution. At school, we talk all day about how
important it is to preserve the environment. This is a good way
to produce food without polluting or consuming natural
resources.”
I just nod and smile. Really, Harper could have told me we
were going to build a rocket to go to Jupiter, and my reaction
would have been the same because I only have eyes for her
beautiful smile.
As Harper explains how easy it would be to set up, her eyes
light up with enthusiasm. She draws little diagrams in her
notebook, outlining how we could simultaneously have a small
lettuce farm and raise edible fish. Finally, she asks if we could
set up the lettuce farm tank in her house; it’d be easier to
document the whole process there.
I had always thought Harper was much brighter than she
appears to be in class. Still, with her explanations, she’s proving
to be a brilliant student. She answers every question I pose to
her without hesitation, using logical reasoning effortlessly where
I struggle to apply it.
When my mother returns home, we have already planned our
science project, including all the materials we need to purchase,
their costs, drawings of the setup we will use, and a plan for
raising lettuce and fish.
“Will you stay for dinner, Harper? I’ve prepared a chicken
recipe that my grandmother taught me many years ago,” my
mother asks in a matter-of-fact voice.
To my surprise, Harper agrees to stay for dinner. I thought
she’d like to run out of here as soon as possible to go home, but
instead, she lies on my bed while my mother prepares dinner, as
if she’s been here a million times.
As we eat, my mother and Harper form a close bond
immediately. In fact, it’s hard not to feel at ease with her
because she’s so friendly and outgoing. Harper acts so naturally,
in a very different way than she does in high school, especially
when she’s around her boyfriend.
“What are you going to do when you finish high school? Are
you going to college?” asks my mother, not realizing that my
classmates come from wealthy families, and almost all of them
will be studying for a college degree.
Harper explains that she has scholarships from several
colleges to play on their basketball teams and that she’s
evaluating their basketball and academic offerings. It’s odd that
she’s considering a degree in electrical engineering, and I can’t
help but feel a little envious of her situation. Not only will she
have no problem going to college for free, but she can choose
from several of them. I’ll be lucky if I can afford the local
university.
 However, just when dinner feels the most comfortable, my
mother forces the conversation in the direction I never wanted it
to go. With my heart pounding, I listen to my mother explain
that I need to win the Jones Scholarship, awarded to the
student with the highest GPA, if I want to get a college degree.
Then, my face pales when Harper’s expression changes
completely.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers before leaving the house.
“It’s not your fault you got a higher score than me on the last
exam. I’ll need to try harder,” I assure her, trying to keep my
dignity.
Luckily, none of my neighbors have keyed the paint on her
Mini Cooper convertible or slashed her tires. When I see her
drive off into the distance, I feel an emptiness inside me that I
don’t quite know how to interpret.
“That girl is such a sweetheart,” says my mother as I go back
into the house.
“Yes, she is,” I whisper.
“You like her, right?” My mom nods at me. “You should ask
her out.”
“Mom! First of all, we haven’t even spoken before today.
Secondly, she has a boyfriend, and thirdly, neither of us are
lesbians,” I reply, hiding my true feelings for Harper.
“Well, from the looks you were giving each other at dinner,
you could tell there might be some interest beyond friendship,”
my mother jokes with a wink.
“I’m going to bed, Mom,” I announce so I don’t have to give
her the whole explanation.
Back in my room and with the lights off, I think about my
mother’s words. I do have a big crush on Harper. I did for years,
and today’s visit has only increased my feelings for her.
However, if she had eyes for anyone other than her boyfriend, I
doubt they’d be aimed at girls. Much less at me, the weirdo who
no one talks to except for Rachel.
 Chapter 7
CELIA
“How was your date with the most popular girl in school?”
Rachel asks, arching her eyebrows when we sit at our usual
cafeteria table.
“It wasn’t a date, but it was surprising.”
“Surprising as in great or awful?” my friend insists.
“Surprising as in amazing,” I repeat. “I wanted to die when I
saw Harper parking her Mini Cooper convertible in my
neighborhood. I don’t know how she didn’t turn around and run
away after she parked her car in front of my house. I spent the
whole dinner thinking about her car getting stolen or scratched.”
“But she’s OK, then?”
“She’s more than I expected,” I admit in a hushed tone of
voice. “She’s just perfect, for lack of a better word. She’s not at
all the girl she seems to be in school. Last night, Harper wasn’t
a basketball star. She was an easy-going girl who stayed for
dinner.” I pause for a few moments to collect my thoughts and
lean my head against the window for support. “And it seems to
me that she’s smart, too. All in all, she’s just perfect.”
Rachel teases, “I can hear your heartbeat from where I am,”
giving me a little shove on my left shoulder.
“Well, that is true. My legs were shaking, though. I’m happy
she is so outgoing, or else we would not have been able to have
a conversation with her. Seriously, you should see how smart
she is when she plans our science projects,” I say to her,
nodding.
“You don’t think she cheated on the test anymore?”
“It’s not clear to me anymore,” I admit. “If Harper Harris got a
good grade for real, and not because she was cheating, maybe
she could do the same thing again and get higher grades. She
might get my scholarship. Fuck, that would really suck.”
“If Harper does it without cheating, it wouldn’t be unfair.
She’d just be better than you. You’re just not used to being
outclassed,” Rachel shrugs.
 “It would be unfair anyway. Last night at dinner, Harper
confessed that she has several colleges to choose from, and
they all give her a full scholarship to play basketball. I’d settle
for attending the local college and still living with my mother.
Still, without the Jones scholarship, my chances are pretty much
nonexistent,” I confess, biting my lower lip and letting out a
snort.
Just then, the sound of a large group of students laughing
and joking fills the space between us. The popular students are
taking seats at their usual table. It is now full, and all eyes are
on them.
However, my eyes have only one possible direction, Harper’s
slender figure with her endless legs and blonde hair. She moves
between the tables with the grace of a feline.
“You should be more careful,” Rachel warns me again,
elbowing me in the ribs. “You’re starting to let your guard
down.”
Every time I see Harper, I forget about the world around me.
When she’s there, it’s as if nothing else exists. I don’t know if
anyone else notices it, but it’s far beyond having a crush on her.
It’s kind of an obsession.
“Watch where you’re going, weirdo,” Lucas Jones shouts as
he trips me with his leg, sending me and my coffee crashing to
the floor.
One of his friends jokes, “Besides being weird, she’s clumsy.”
The group breaks out in laughter.
I close my eyes and bite down hard on my lower lip, causing
my wound to bleed again. It’s true that I wasn’t paying
attention, and it was something of an accident that I tripped.
Typically, if Lucas Jones or any of his friends are around, I keep
my eyes peeled to make sure they don’t mess with me. But I
wouldn’t be on the floor if he didn’t trip me.
I look around and notice the general laughter of the students
at almost every table. Some of them must have been amused,
but I know that others only laughed because it was what the
popular kids were doing.
 Instinctively, I look at Harper, who remains straight-faced. She
looks back at me, then rises from her table and seems to be on
her way over to me. Fuck, I don’t want her to see me crying.
“Are you all right?” Harper asks, grabbing me by the elbow
and trying to get me to stand up.
“I’m fine. Let me go!” I growl, slapping the girl away and
getting up in a hurry to escape the stares of the rest of the
students.
I run towards the school’s front door, leaving the building
behind in large strides until I reach the nearby secluded park.
There, I take a moment to make sure no one is lurking around
to film me with a cell phone before I lean my back against a
century-old tree and plunk down to sit on the ground. I hug my
knees closer in front of me and take a deep breath to try to
calm my raging emotions. My thoughts race as I try to figure
out why Lucas took his anger out on me.
A female voice whispers next to me, “I’m sorry about what
happened. Sometimes Lucas can be a bit of a jerk.”
I open my eyes, and my heart skips several beats when I see
Harper sitting next to me and wrapping her arm around my
shoulder.
“Thank you. I don’t know what you are doing with someone
like him, really,” I confess without realizing what I’m saying.
Harper’s cheeks turn bright red as she leans towards me and
whispers, “Sometimes I don’t know either.” Then, she glances
around, looking for anyone who may be listening. “But don’t tell
anyone.” She turns to face me and smiles. “Lucas is great when
the two of us are alone together, although he gets carried away
by his friends,” Harper admits. Her cheeks are still red.
“Yeah, I guess he’ll have hidden charms for you,” I admit,
covering my face with my hands. “I’m sorry, that sounded really
awful.”
Harper puts her weight on me as she jokes, “I’m not going to
comment on the intimate parts of our relationship.”
We spend all of our free period sitting under the tree chatting.
We talk about all sorts of things, and without even being aware
of it, I tell her about my problems at school, my fears, and my
desires. Even though we hardly know each other, I feel like I’m
talking to an old friend.
As we walk beside each other back to school for the next
class, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I should tell someone about my problems which is not Rachel.
Someone who, against all odds, seems to understand me.
But when I run into Rachel, and she tells me that Lucas and
Harper have been fighting in the middle of the cafeteria for
throwing me to the floor, I want the ground to swallow me up.
If my life wasn’t easy in this damn place, it would be hell from
now on. I will be the target of the entire football team,
especially Lucas Jones. His girlfriend rebuked him in front of
everyone because of me, and that won’t sit well with him.
 Chapter 8
CELIA
After school, my mother drives me to Harper’s house so that
we can work on our science project. She lives near the outskirts
of town, on the edge of a neighborhood dominated by
expensive villas. As we drive by them, we keep gaping at the
big houses, each more impressive than the last.
Harper greets us at the entrance to a modern villa with large
windows. A swimming pool of more than decent size is at the
very top of a well-kept garden. To the right: half of a basketball
court that she uses for practice.
Harper beams as she announces that the materials to set up
the aquaponic project have arrived. In a large garage, she
shows me a one-cubic-meter tank that she explains can hold
different numbers of fish depending on the species. Apparently,
Harper has been doing some research and recommends that we
try to breed tilapia. This fish grows very fast and is a hardy
breed, although the nutritional levels are not the best.
We will install a small submersible pump in that tank to help
oxygenate the water. We will grow the vegetables at the top of
the system, and the fish tank will be at the bottom of the
system.
We will put arlite in the planter, a porous, cheap material that
will help maintain the plants’ roots. It will also house a
community of microorganisms to help their rapid growth. Using
this system, we will be able to grow both plant and animal food
inexpensively, sustainably, and with minimal waste and
pollution.
Harper looks up from her notes as she spits out one piece of
information after another without pause for breath as if she had
already spent countless hours on the project. Watching the
enthusiasm in her eyes, I wonder over and over again what this
girl is doing with her asshole boyfriend. I am amazed that, for
the first time, I won’t be doing all the work for a science
project.
 “That’s about all there is to it,” Harper says after forty-five
minutes of explanation. “What do you think?” She shrugs as she
asks, keeping her eyes focused on me.
“I’m freaking out, I swear,” I nod.
“Is that because you like the project or because you think it
sucks?” Harper asks with concern on her face.
“I think it’s a great project,” I say, arching my eyebrows. “As
long as we keep the fish alive, we’ve got an A for sure.”
Harper moves swiftly toward me so that she can give me a
hug and whispers in my ear that we make a great team. I
tremble as she touches my back, and my heart pounds so hard
it feels like it could burst out of my chest. I will die of love if she
ever holds me like this again.
But, of course, it all comes to an end, and Harper breaks
away from me. She says we must head to her room to start
with the drawings and the technical calculations. As I follow her,
I try to remember her body’s warmth against mine, her cheek’s
softness against my skin, her hand caressing my back, and her
breasts pressed against my chest. I wish I had a way to
remember that feeling forever.
As I cross the threshold of her bedroom, it feels like I’ve
stepped through a magic portal into a dream. The closet alone
looks like my apartment, and the bathroom is like a fantasy. A
huge whirlpool tub stands proudly as soon as I open the
bathroom door. It comfortably fits two people.
“You don’t know Lucas’s obsession with that tub,” Harper
admits, her voice cracking. She is breaking my heart into a
million pieces.
Shit, just thinking about Harper and her boyfriend in the
bathtub makes me want to puke. Life can’t be so unfair. An
asshole like Lucas Jones shouldn’t be allowed to be near a
perfect body like Harper’s. It’s almost sacrilege.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Harper asks suddenly. I shake my
head while chewing the salty popcorn.
“Me? No, no way!”
“You’re a lesbian, right?” she asks matter-of-factly.
 “Why do you ask?” I say. My voice sounds as though it is
about to falter.
“That’s what they say in school,” Harper shrugs. “I was just
curious. I wanted to know how you found out you were lesbian
and that sort of thing.” She smiles at me again, and my knees
turn to jelly.
I get so nervous that instead of taking advantage of the
situation to see how curious Harper is, I avoid the subject and
change the topic. I’m such a fool.
“What about you and Lucas?” I ask, not the least bit
interested in the answer.
Harper says, “We’re OK, I guess. We’ll both be going to
different colleges next year, and it will be very difficult to
continue our relationship.” She arches her eyebrows as if to say
she knows she’s being overly pessimistic.
“You say that as if your relationship were just a hobby.”
“No, don’t get me wrong,” Harper says. “It’s not a hobby.” She
shuffles her feet; she’s twisted the sleeves of her blue sweater
around her hands as if she were worried. “But I don’t think it’s a
lasting relationship either.” Her voice cracks slightly. “At least, I
don’t think it is anymore. Please, Celia, nobody can know about
this.”
“Why are you still with Lucas, then?” I ask after assuring
Harper that I won’t tell anybody and that her secret is safe with
me.
“I guess that’s expected of me. It’s almost like a tradition at
our school, isn’t it? The football team captain has to date either
the captain of the cheerleading squad or the girls’ basketball
team captain. I don’t know. It’s always been that way.”
I lean forward, surprised. “It seems like a joke to me,” I say,
not realizing that I’m hurting Harper. “Do you always do what’s
expected of you?”
“Normally, yes,” Harper looks down, clearly upset. “I wish I
could be more like you,” she confesses.
“Like me?”
 “Yes, like you. You’re Celia, and that’s it. You’re unique in our
school. You don’t follow any patterns or pretend to belong to
any group. You’re just yourself, independent, not following any
social conditioning. I just do what’s expected of me. I date the
popular kid. I play basketball because my dad played it, and
now they want me to get good grades for some reason,” she
admits to my surprise, trying to hide teary eyes.
“Harper, you don’t have to be ashamed if you want to cry,” I
tell her, stroking her left arm. “I cry all the time, too.”
“Nobody at school has ever seen me cry,” she replies sharply.
“We’re not at school, it’s just you and me, and I won’t tell
anyone. It’s not like anyone would want to listen to me either,” I
whisper as I hug her.
Feeling me wrap my arms around her body, Harper hugs me
back, and lets go. She cries hard as if she’s been waiting for this
moment of release for years. The tears roll down her soft skin
like tiny diamonds, leaving a salty aftertaste on my lips that
never seems to fade.
It breaks my heart to see her like this, but I feel proud at the
same time. Seeing a more human Harper after years of
watching her hide her emotions is empowering. It’s a side of her
I’ve never seen before. A much better version of the cold,
calculating sports star she pretends to be in high school.
“Thank you so much, Celia,” Harper tells me, placing her
forehead against mine and covering my cheeks with her hands.
“You don’t know how much I needed this.”
My heart skips several beats as her nose brushes mine. Her
chest swells with each breath as if she’s considering taking an
important step. I close my eyes and watch her move a little
closer, her lips an inch from mine, as she tilts her neck to one
side.
I shiver from head to toe as Harper’s warm breath touches
my lips and her right hand skims over my hair. She pulls me
towards her until there is almost no distance between us, and
then...
 What the fuck! My mother’s car horn signals that she has
returned for me and breaks the most magical moment of my
entire existence. Fuck, did she just interrupt my first kiss? I’ll kill
her when we get home because I’ll never have an opportunity
like this again.
I’m aware that I’ve caught Harper in a moment of weakness,
in a moment when her heart was soft. I hadn’t even thought
about it. Harper has a boyfriend, and, assuming she likes girls, I
imagine I’d be one of her last choices. Still, I’ll keep that feeling
in my memory for the rest of my life. I’ll burn my ‘almost kiss’
with Harper into my mind so I’ll never forget it.
 Chapter 9
CELIA
“I swear I don’t understand, Mom,” I complain, dropping my
backpack as soon as we enter the house.
My mother shakes her head. “At your age, social conditioning
is very important. At any age, really, but especially in high
school.”
“But she’s got it all. Harper is a great person. She’s beautiful,
she’s nice, she’s smart, and she’s the star of the basketball
team. I can’t understand why she hangs out with those
assholes, though. They don’t even have half a brain cell
between them. I can’t believe she gives them attention. Fuck,
I’m getting really worked up just thinking about it.” I insist;
slapping my hand on the table only hurts me.
My mother arches her eyebrows and flashes her signature
smile: “I think you like that girl,” she says.
“It’s not that, Mom. It just makes me very angry that she lets
herself get carried away like that, that’s all. I don’t understand it
because she’s smart, and she knows she doesn’t fit in with that
group. It’s a shame,” I say, squinting and shaking my head.
The truth is that Rachel is probably right, and it’s becoming
too apparent to me that I have a crush on Harper, but I don’t
know how to avoid it. However, even if I didn’t, it doesn’t make
any sense to me what she’s doing. She is already Harper Harris.
She doesn’t need to fit in with Lucas and his friends or try to
stand out. She’s enough just as she is.
That night I go to sleep thinking about Harper. Alone in my
bedroom, with the lights off, I bite down on my left fist to keep
from making noise, seeking relief from a tension that grows
between my legs each time I think about her. In the dark, I
remember our “almost kiss,” the warmth of her body as we
hugged, the soft skin of her cheek, and the salty taste of her
tears on my lips.
***
 The results of the last math test confirm what I feared the
most: Harper’s grade is higher than mine. I missed a silly thing
and got 99, which was below her perfect score of 100. Her
average scores are still a long way off. Theoretically, I have
enough margin to win the scholarship as long as my grades are
close to A, although I’m starting to get very nervous.
Strange, everyone is there to congratulate Harper on her
performance, but she doesn’t look happy. She gives me a quick
look as I sit down. She looks a little guilty, but maybe I just
imagine that. After all, who wouldn’t feel nervous with another
perfect score?
Rachel rolls her eyes and folds her arms. “I think it’s super
weird that that girl got an A+ again,” she says once we’re alone.
I don’t reply, but my worried expression says it all without
words.
“She can’t catch you unless you start to mess up regularly on
every test, so you need to be calm,” Rachel assures me, trying
to cheer me up.
“It’d be a hell of a thing if I don’t win the scholarship when
she doesn’t need it at all,” I mutter, lowering my gaze.
“That chick doesn’t have half a brain cell. She only knows
how to play basketball and fuck her boyfriend.” Rachel shakes
my shoulders and announces, “I know she’s cheating on the
next exam. I’m going to be watching her.”
“Don’t be a jerk, Rachel. You don’t have any proof that Harper
is cheating. She is a lot smarter than people think” I tense up a
little.
Worrying about the scholarship is starting to take its toll on
me. I’d never even considered the possibility of not winning it
until just a few weeks ago. I was so sure I was going to get it
that the possibility of losing it rattles me.
Unbidden, I turn the idea of Harper cheating on the exams
over and over in my head. It would be unfair if Harper gets it.
For her, getting the extra money that she can use to go on
holiday or buy nice clothes is a bonus. For me, it is an absolute
necessity if I want to go to college.
 Not even the basketball game that evening can cheer me up.
As usual, Harper scores point after point, winning the game for
our team, and the crowd goes wild chanting her name. Today,
however, I’m not enjoying her success, Rachel’s words don’t
leave my mind, and I begin to see her in a different light.
After the basketball game, all the students attend a small
party in the gym organized by the school to celebrate that the
girls’ basketball team has advanced to the finals of the state
championships. Today’s game was just a formality, but the
ceremony was lovely, and Harper spoke a few words of
encouragement to the team. A simple act to give them medals
and wish them luck at the upcoming tournament.
However, the real party will come later, at Lucas Jones’ house.
His parents are on vacation in Europe, and he has the place to
himself. In a moment of misguided pride, he has invited all the
seniors, including Rachel and me, to the event, even though we
are not usually invited to these events.
“Tell me one good reason why we have to go to this party,” I
tell my friend Rachel as she pulls up to my house.
“Because everyone’s going, even the guys from the chess club
and the band,” she shrugs, “and because I need you to come
with me, so you won’t let me drink too much or do anything
stupid.”
I shake my head, trying to get that image out of my mind,
but the truth is that Rachel has been thinking about the idea of
getting a little wild at a party for a while now. Her theory is that
everyone at school thinks we are boring and socially inept.
Rachel is determined to find a date for the prom, so she has
been trying out strategies to send a more fun image.
I won’t be able to go because I can’t afford the expense of a
party dress, but, in any case, it has always seemed to me
nonsense imposed by social traditions. It adds unnecessary
pressure on students in an already challenging year.
The thing is that Rachel has let herself get carried away, and
she is getting nuts trying to find a boyfriend for the prom.
Needless to say, the tradition in which after the dance, if you
have not already lost your virginity, you must do it, seems to me
a holdover from the Middle Ages. It’s an exercise in machismo
that should be banned in our time.
The car rolls to a halt in front of Lucas’s house. My friend
tightens her grip on the steering wheel and takes a deep breath
as she parks her car in front of Lucas’s house as if to anchor
herself to something familiar before we head into the party.
Rachel lets out a long sigh. “Here we are,” she exclaims.
“Judging by the number of cars here,” I murmur, “us and half
the city.”
The music is blaring, and laughter fills the air as my whole
class is talking in groups or joking around with a beer in hand.
As soon as we arrive, we find lots of tables set up in the garden
with some food and lots of drinks. Lucas will not let anyone into
the house except his closest friends because if they cause any
harm to the interior, his parents will kill him, so the garden is full
of people.
In just over thirty minutes, we’ve already seen several people
throwing up, a few girls getting groped, and a few too many
drinks. However, what really turns my stomach is watching
Lucas and Harper start to take off their clothes, chanted by their
group of friends, and jump into the pool, he is completely
naked, and Harper is covered only by tiny panties.
Before long, countless more naked people join them, and I
don’t know where to hide. I start to get really nervous and look
to Rachel for support. After all, she has a little more experience
at parties than I do, although very little more.
But that nervousness is nothing compared to what I feel
when Harper walks past me, hand in hand with Lucas, without a
single towel covering their bodies, toward the house.
“Tomorrow we have to work on our science project, don’t
forget,” Harper whispers with a wink as she walks past me
practically naked.
She’s shivering with cold, even though she’s clearly had more
than enough to drink. Her wet panties are almost transparent,
showing more than they should, but I only have eyes for her
hard nipples. Lucas’s proud smile and the erection he doesn’t
bother to hide, make it clear what they’ll be doing inside the
house.
I bite my lower lip and hold back the tears which threaten to
spill out of my eyes. It would be stupid for them to see me cry
over something like this. It wouldn’t make sense to cry out of
anger in front of everyone. Harper can do whatever she wants.
She’s old enough to decide. If Harper wants to give her body to
that jerk without even being sure if she has feelings for him,
that’s her problem. I’m becoming increasingly convinced that
maybe Rachel is right, and she’s cheating on the tests. That girl
must be an idiot.
 Chapter 10
CELIA
“There’s something wrong with you,” Harper says after we’ve
been working on the project for a little over half an hour.
“Nothing is wrong with me. Hand me the drill,” I reply bluntly,
not intending to discuss my feelings.
The truth is, ever since the day before at her boyfriend’s
party, I can’t get out of my mind Lucas and Harper walking into
the house, him naked and her nearly so. Shit, I can’t stand it. If
she’s happy like that, that’s her problem. It says little about her
self-esteem, no matter how much of a star she’s in high school.
“What’s with you and Lucas?” she asks. “Why do you get
along so terribly?”
“He has a problem with me. Your boyfriend and his friends,
because it’s not just him.” I add, “I’ve never done anything to
him or anyone in his gang, and they’ve been making fun of me
since I started high school. You probably know his reasons
better than I,” I reproach, a little agitated.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I mistreated you.”
“You’ve never done anything to me,” I admit with a shrug.
Harper is silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to
say.
“I’ve never done anything directly to you,” she admits, taking
my hand in hers, “but I’ve never stopped it. Until we started this
project together, I don’t even remember talking to you, and this
is the fourth year that we’ve gone to the same school.”
“More than half the class has never spoken to me, so you’re
not alone. I don’t mind that. I’m not the most communicative
person in the world, and I know I’m a big part of the problem.
What bothers me is being picked on for living in a mobile home,
wearing hand-me-downs, or for being ugly,” I complain, shaking
my head.
“You’re not ugly,” Harper says. “The other two things aren’t
your fault; if you had a choice, I guess you would have
preferred that your mother had money.” She strokes my hand
with her thumb.
I don’t reply, but if I die right now, I would be satisfied with
just that sentence.
“You’ve blushed,” Harper jokes, squeezing my hand again.
Again, I prefer not to say anything, but when our gazes meet,
my mind slides away from me. She’s beautiful. Her huge blue
eyes dominate my field of view to the point that it is hard to
remember how to speak. I’m not sure if Harper’s sensing
something. Still, my legs are shaking, my hands are covered in a
small bead of sweat, and I feel a tingling sensation under my
belly that’s starting to make me extremely nervous.
“Yesterday, I argued with Lucas because of you,” she blurts
out.
“Because of me?”
“He said you were staring at my nipples when we passed you
on the way out of the pool,” Harper says, arching her eyebrows.
I swallow and shake my head, unable to find the words.
“Harper, I...I... don’t know what to say.”
“It’s okay. Half the party was staring at my nipples or my ass
or trying to guess if my panties were showing through the front.
It was my fault for bathing almost naked in front of the whole
class. I don’t understand why Lucas was complaining about your
look when all his friends were doing the same thing,” Harper
admits, letting out a sigh.
“Well, a lot of the girls were looking at his erection,” I add,
trying to defuse the tension.
“God, I don’t know what went through my head to get into
the pool almost naked. I had too much to drink,” Harper
laments, holding a hand to her forehead.
“You were on a high from the game. I’m sorry for causing an
argument between you two,” I apologize, stroking her forearm.
Harper shakes her head. “Sometimes, I think he just wants
me around as a sex toy or to show off to his friends.”
As she utters that sentence, I can see the pain in her eyes,
and my heart opens up to her again. If I practically hated her
last night when I left the party, now that I see her vulnerable,
she inspires me almost tenderness. Right now, she’s not the girl
I couldn’t approach in high school, the most popular girl, the
star basketball player, or even a contender for the scholarship I
wanted. She’s just Harper, a teenager like any other, with her
problems and needs, her worries and insecurities, wanting
someone to listen to her, dying to tell someone else what’s
going on with her life.
“Do your parents travel a lot?” I say to divert her attention as
her eyes begin to well up with tears.
“They are divorced. My mother lives in our city, but she is
married, and I have two little sisters from that marriage. I live
with my father because I don’t want to interfere with their
current relationship. My father is rarely around, so I basically
have the house to myself and my dogs,” she admits, looking
down at a huge Neapolitan mastiff who looks up at us with lazy
eyes.
“My parents are also divorced. They’re not officially divorced,
as we don’t have the money for lawyers, but my father left us
when I was a year old, and we haven’t heard from him since.
That’s why I’ve been living alone with my mother ever since,” I
confess, smiling at her.
“It must have been very hard for your mother to raise you on
her own, and she’s done an amazing job.”
I sigh with resignation. “I know she’s doing the best she can.
She’s been working two shifts for as long as I can remember so
she can give me everything I need, but she’s slowly killing
herself,” I say.
Harper cuts me off and raises an eyebrow. “That’s why you’re
so obsessed with that scholarship?”
“It’s not an obsession; it’s a necessity. It’s my only chance to
go to college, at least in the short term. Almost all of our
classmates can study wherever they want. You have several
places to choose from, with a full scholarship to play basketball.
My only option is to earn that scholarship to go to the local
university. I love my mother very much, but I don’t want her
life. I want to have a better future.” I pause for a moment,
ashamed about what I just said.
“I think it’s so nice that you have those aspirations and work
hard for them. Your mother must be so proud of you,” Harper
whispers, pulling me into a hug.
With a long sigh, I let myself be tucked into her arms, burying
my head in her neck as she combs my hair through her fingers.
She kisses my forehead gently as if to convey peace. When she
kisses my neck as she brushes her hand against my cheek, my
whole body trembles with anticipation.
“Stop, please, Harper,” I interrupt her, pushing her body away
from me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, glaring at me.
“I don’t know if this is a game to you, but it’s not to me,” I
whisper. “I think I have feelings for you, and unless you do too,
I’d better get out of here now,” I say as I connect my eyes to
the skyline above. I feel my tears welling up and wish I could
turn back time.
“I’m taking you home,” Harper says, stroking my right arm.
“I’d rather not.”
“Let me at least call you an Uber. We’ll put it on my dad’s tab,
don’t worry. I’m sorry about what just happened,” Harper
insists, looking down.
In little more than ten minutes, I find myself on my way home
with my eyes bathed in tears and my heart in a fist. I clench my
hands in anger and frustration as a torrent of emotions courses
through my body like a cyclone. It hurts so much that I do not
know how to handle my feelings. I feel like I have done the
right thing, although I now regret it. I’m sure that I’ve
destroyed my only chance to kiss Harpers. It kills me to know I
must stay away from her if I don’t want everything to explode.
 Chapter 11
CELIA
“Oh my god, Rachel, I will kill you,” my friend Celia shouts,
her eyes wide open.
“Please, you can’t tell anyone,” I whisper, my face very
serious.
“You actually proposed to Harper Harris?”
“I just told Harper I had feelings for her,” I admit, shrugging.
“If she doesn’t feel the same way, it’s best to stop and leave it
at that; otherwise, she might break my heart into a thousand
pieces.”
Rachel still seems surprised: “Did you really almost kiss?”
“Twice.”
“Fucking hell, that’s amazing!”
“Rachel, please, you can’t...”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I can’t tell anyone about what we just
discussed. You have to cut off all relations with that girl. Ask the
science teacher if you can change partners in the science
project,” my friend says decisively.
Although Rachel knows the project is well underway, and the
plans have already been drawn up, all the material bought and
paid for, she refuses to listen to reason. Nor does she listen to
me when I point out that it is a risk for me to start another
project from scratch, knowing that Harper will get an A with the
aquaponic system.
“Look, I don’t want to sound cruel or anything, but she’s just
messing with you. Harper’s just curious about what it’s like to be
with a girl, so she’s taking advantage of the privacy of her room
to experiment. She knows she’s safe with you because you
won’t tell anyone, or at most me, but they won’t believe us if
we tell. The best thing to do is forget about her before you do
something stupid and ruin your reputation even more,” says
Rachel. She looks around to make sure no one is within earshot.
“It’s not that easy,” I complain.
 “If her boyfriend finds out, the least of your problems is that
Harper will break your heart. Lucas will break your bones.
You’re playing with fire. If they find out, the harassment you’re
experiencing now will seem harmless compared to what they’ll
do to you. And the worst thing is that they’re going to catch me
on the rebound. Look, when the school year is over, let yourself
kiss her or go to bed with her if you want or if you can, but
right now, stay away from Harper like the plague,” insists my
friend Rachel raising her eyes to the sky.
The bell rings to signal the start of the next hour of class, and
we both rush to the classroom. I spend the entire history lesson
weighing up the possibilities; I’m gambling on my scholarship if
I change projects. And who am I kidding? I don’t want to be
away from Harper now that I’ve discovered her tender,
approachable side.
Rachel’s right; I must think about what’s left of the school
year. My situation with Lucas and his friends isn’t too good as it
is, but if he finds out that I kissed his girlfriend (or even that we
almost did), things could get much worse.
Rachel’s theory that Harper is only playing me out of curiosity
because I’m the safest option for her is most likely true. Harper
is simply on another level. If she just winked at any of the
school’s lesbians, they would have to change their underwear. If
she chose me, it’s because we were at her house, with no one
there to see us, and she knows I won’t tell. Deep down, I’ve
been a fool to get my hopes up when I have no chance with
her.
After history class ends, I sprint through the school halls in
search of the science teacher. As soon as I find her, I ask for a
new partner. My heart is beating so hard I can feel it bouncing
off my fingers.
***
“Is there a problem between the two of you?” the teacher
asks, looking at me over her glasses strangely.
“No, I’d just prefer to change partners,” I answer, trying to
keep my voice level. “Or do the project alone, if it’s possible.”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
head, and a spider that has lost half its legs, are not worth a place in
a cabinet.
To get together even a small cabinet of objects in natural history,
takes time, care, and patience. I knew a girl who was carefully
collecting and mounting beetles. In a whole summer she got only
twenty-five. But each one was perfect, different from the rest, nicely
fastened in place, and had its name written beside it. So her
collection was of real value.
After you have secured a nice little cabinet, the trouble will be to
keep it safe, and in order. Specimens must be taken care of. All
specimens of plants, and insects, are very liable to be destroyed by
little bugs. Only the things kept in alcohol are really safe from being
eaten.
Camphor and red pepper are of some use to keep out these
enemies. Your teachers will know, or can easily learn, how to
prepare the specimens with poisons, which will kill the mites and not
harm you or the specimens. You must leave it to them.
It is nice to have a case with glass doors. If you cannot have that,
arrange as many of the objects as you can in boxes with panes of
glass laid over them. For open cabinets it is well to have a piece of
fine gauze to lay over each shelf, or over the whole set of shelves,
when the cabinet is not in immediate use.
Dust makes a cabinet look very ugly. But you cannot clean off
beetles and butterflies with a dusting cloth or brush. It would ruin
such delicate things.
You can gently move the boxes and specimens, and wipe off the
shelves, and the sides of the boxes. Then blow, or fan, the dust from
the specimens. Even minerals should have the dust blown from
them, not wiped off. It is easy to rub the bloom and the little fine
points, and edges, from a mineral specimen.
When you have made up your minds to have a cabinet in your
school, look about and see what your friends have to give you for it.
Many people have a few natural history curiosities, for which they do
not really care. Such persons would gladly give their treasures to a
school cabinet. But there should be some bright little lad or lass to
say: “Oh, we have a cabinet at our school. Would you not be willing
to send these things there?”
Correct pictures of birds, fish, insects, and flowers, are useful in a
cabinet, but you must be sure that they are correct before you give
them a place. You must not put the pictures into your cabinet merely
because they are pretty. If they are wrong they will give you false
ideas. I have seen colored pictures of insects with some of the legs
set upon the hinder part of the body instead of all upon the chest
part. Such a picture is of no use.
Keen eyes to see what comes in your own way, and keen wits to
suggest to other people what they can do for you, will steadily help to
build up the school cabinet.
 LESSON XVI.
THE OLD MAN OF THE MEADOW.

THE OLD MAN AND HIS FAMILY.

When I was about seven years old, I caught a grasshopper and put
him into a bottle.
Then I sat down outside the bottle, and looked at the grasshopper.
He sat inside the bottle, and looked at me.
It began to grow upon my mind that the grasshopper looked much
like an old man. His face, with the big, solemn eyes, and straight
mouth, was like an old man’s face.
He wore a gray coat, like a loose duster. He had a wrinkled greenish
vest. He wore knee-breeches and long red stockings.
The more I looked at him, the more he looked like a little, grave, old-
time man who came to visit my aged grandfather.
I had a cousin who at dusk would sit with me in a corner of the big
sofa, and repeat to me a poem, called the “Prisoner of Chillon.” That
sad poem had made me feel very sorry for all prisoners. I thought my
grasshopper in the bottle felt like a prisoner. I said, “Now you may
go, my Old Man of the Meadow.”
I took the cork out of the bottle. The grasshopper at once leaped up,
and sat on the rim of the bottle. Then a strange thing happened! The
Old Man of the Meadow spread out two wide brown wings. They had
a broad, lemon-colored band on them. They were gay as the wings
of a butterfly! On them he sailed away!
I could hardly believe my eyes. I ran after him to a tall stalk of
golden-rod. There he sat a plain, gray-green old man. But again he
spread out the wide wings, and was gone!
My Old Man of the Meadow had then this splendid dress-coat under
his sober overcoat! Seated at rest, he looked plain and quiet,—a
creature of the earth. Lifted into the air, he was nearly as fine as a
butterfly.
Do you not wish to know something more of this Old Man of the
Meadow, the grasshopper? The name of this insect at once tells you
something about him. He lives much in the grass, and his chief
motion is in hops, or long jumps. He has another name, “the
murmurer.” This is given because of the noise or song he makes. He
sings to Mrs. Grasshopper. His song is loud and shrill. It is made by
rubbing his wings one upon the other.
He has a little piece of skin like a tight drum-head set in each wing.
As he moves his wings, this tiny drum vibrates, or trembles, and
makes the shrill sound.
Mrs. Grasshopper does not have this drum in her wings. She has,
however, at the end of her body, a nice little sword. The French call
her “the jumper with the sword.” Is her sword to fight with? No. This
little sword opens into several blades. She uses it to place her eggs
snugly in the ground. The sword blades open, and the eggs slide
safely down between them, into the little earth-bed. There they lie
until the young grasshoppers hatch out.
You will find as we study about grasshoppers, that they do not all live
in the grass. Some spend most of their time in trees.
Let us take a closer look at the grasshopper. As he is an insect,[13]
he should have a body made in rings, in three parts, with four wings
and six legs set on the second, or chest part.
Just here let us say, that if you will look closely you will see that the
head of an insect is made of four rings, and its chest is made of
three rings. They are rings grown wider than the rest.
Our Old Man of the Meadow does not lack any of the parts which a
proper insect should have.
The order which he belongs to is called the straight-wings, because
the insects belonging to it do not fold their wings crosswise.
The grasshopper family is called the family of “the murmurers,” from
their music.
There are six families of the straight-wings. In this book we shall
study a little about three of them,—the grasshoppers, the crickets,
and the locusts. If you wish, also, to learn about their cousin, the
cockroach, suppose you, who live in city houses, go down to the
kitchen, and catch him about the water pipes, and study him for
yourselves!
The order of straight-wings is often divided in this way: The runners,
—as the cockroach; the snatchers, a kind which have their fore-feet
something like hands, to snatch with; the walkers, who seldom fly or
jump; and the jumpers. The grasshopper is one of the jumpers.
If you look well at the grasshopper, you will see that his front pair of
legs is shorter than the others. This hinders him in walking over a
level surface. But it helps him in walking up a tree, or small plant, or
a wall.
See the hind legs! They are more than twice as long as the others.
The thigh, or upper part, is very long and strong. By means of these
big legs, the grasshopper is a famous jumper.
Now, if you have a grasshopper to look at, you will see that the feet
have four parts. The part of the leg between the foot and the thigh
has sharp points like the teeth of a comb.
The hind part of the body is long and slender, and, being made of
rings, can bend easily. In the great, green grasshopper all the body
is of a fine green tint.
Let us look at the wings. The upper pair, or wing-covers, are large
and long. Notice two things about the wings; they lap at the tips, and
are high in the middle. When they are shut, they have a shape like a
slanting roof. The upper ones are longer than the lower ones.
These wing-cases have large veins. Lift up a wing-case and pull out
a lower wing. It is folded very closely, in lengthwise plaits. Where
these wings join Mr. Grasshopper’s body, you will find his drum-plate
for making music. One kind of grasshopper has very short wing-
covers. In that kind, both Mr. and Mrs. Grasshopper make music.
There is also one grasshopper, a little, green fellow, that has no
drum; he is silent.
The upper side of the grasshopper’s chest is shaped like a large,
horny collar. The head is large, and has two big, glossy eyes. There
is, also, a knob on the forehead. Between the eyes, are set the
feelers. They are very long; even longer than all the body.
The mouth of the grasshopper is wide, and it has strong jaws. But
they are not so strong as those of his cousin, the cricket.
Grasshoppers prefer vegetable food. They will sometimes eat animal
food. When shut up in a box, they will fight, and the one which gets
killed will be eaten by the victor.
A grasshopper which lost its leg while being put into a box, ate its
leg. Like the other winged creatures, grasshoppers lose their legs
easily, and do not seem to mind it.
If you could look inside the grasshopper’s body, you would see that
he has a gizzard, much like that of a chicken. It is made of little
bands set with fine teeth. These teeth chew up into a pulp the leaves
which the grasshopper has eaten.

FOOTNOTES:
[13] See Nature Reader, No. 2, Lessons 1-4.
 LESSON XVII.
THE LIFE OF THE OLD MAN OF THE MEADOW.
Many years ago, a great poet wrote a song to the grasshopper. The
poet said the grasshopper was the happiest of living things. It did
nothing but dance and sing. It ate fresh leaves, and drank cool dew.
When the glad summer of its life was done, it died. It did not live to
be sick, or hungry, or cold.
This poet called the grasshopper “the earth-born,” and said that it
was man’s little brother.
Yes, the grasshopper is earth-born. The mother grasshopper makes,
with the sword of which I told you, a hole in the ground. In that she
lays her eggs, in a case made of something like glue. Then she
closes up the hole, and the eggs lie all winter, safe in the ground.
In the spring, the larvæ hatch from the egg, and creep out of the
ground. They are very small, but shaped much like the parent, only
they have no wings. They molt, or change their skins several times.
At first, the little ones are all alike, but after several changes of skin,
the larvæ become pupæ. Then you can see the coming wings under
a little sheath. You can also see Mrs. Grasshopper’s sword growing.
About six or eight weeks, after hatching, the final change is made.
The perfect insect comes out of its last-shed skin. It has now two
pairs of wings. Mr. Grasshopper plays on his new drum, and Mrs.
Grasshopper marches about with her new sword.
The young grasshoppers are very greedy while larvæ and pupæ.
They eat all the time. When they are grown, they do not give all their
time to eating. Mr. Grasshopper must sing, and he does not do this
while either flying or eating.
He stands quite still, fixes himself firmly by his fore-feet, and presses
his body downward. There is a little quiver through all his body as
long as the sound lasts.
The people of Italy call him “the screamer,” or “the squealer,” from
his shrill noise.
The grasshopper has a very odd habit. After he has eaten for a long
time, he sits quite still. He looks as if he were doing some serious
thinking. Sometimes when he sits in this way, he moves his mouth
as if chewing. From this action, people used to think that he chewed
the cud, as cows and sheep do.
But he does not chew the cud. If you watch him well, in these silent
times, you will see him gravely licking his long feelers, and his lips.
He seems to be cleaning them.
To do this, he runs out a long, limber tongue, shaped much like
yours. You remember that the ants have this habit of cleaning and
dressing themselves, after eating.[14]
The great, green grasshopper, which lives on the trees, has wings of
a gray-green. He has a little bronze, or russet color, on his feet, and
on the under part of his body. The rest of his body is a fine leaf-
green.
The color in the grasshopper does not seem to be laid on the surface
of his coat, as on that of the beetle. It is not put on in plumes and
scales, as the butterfly has it. But it is dyed through and through the
wings and body.
The wing-cases of the grasshopper, and the rings of the body, are
not hard, and like horn or shell, as in the beetle tribe. They are of a
tough skin, and are dyed with the color.
Let us have a look at some of these fine fellows. Although the color
of the great, green grasshopper is so gay, it will be hard to find him.
His coat is just the tint of the leaves he likes to live among. You can
scarcely see him even if you look straight at him.
You will find in the grass a smaller, lighter-green hopper that is very
easily caught, because in his hurry to get away he flies right up in
your face, when he hears you coming.
The grasshoppers are a very timid family, and are very sensitive to
sound. Some say that their long feelers serve them for ears. But that
is not true.
The garden grasshopper has very small wings. Its color is brownish
gray. It likes to live in the garden walls or under the leaves in the
borders. Both Mr. and Mrs. Grasshopper sing in this garden family.
They keep up fine music for those who like to hear them, as one
answers the song of the other.
I think we most of us like the cry of the grasshopper. It brings to our
mind the warm, dry, sunny days, the time of flowers.
Out in the meadow you will find our Old Man, the common great,
gray hopper. As the great, green one in the trees is hidden by his
color, so is the great, gray one hidden in the grass. His coat is the
hue of the half-dry grass, with little tinges of green along it.
He seems a very plain insect at first. But watch him and notice the
light red and yellowish bands on his legs. He has spots of soot color
on his wing cases. When he spreads his wide wings, note the brown
and yellow stripes. He is fine enough after all.
In the woods, among the pine and fir trees, you will find a light-green,
small, slim grasshopper a deal like the garden singer.
There is a very handsome, large grasshopper called the wart-biter.
The boys in Sweden give him this name, because they think he can
cure warts. They think that if he bites a wart, and puts some dark
brown juice on it, the wart will go away.
The wart-biter is nearly two inches long. It is a green-gray with
reddish legs and feet. It lays its eggs in little balls in the earth.
In South America there are very large and splendid grasshoppers.
Their wings are so gay that when they fly they look much like
butterflies. The wings, in flight, cover most of the body.
But when you see the large, long legs stretched out behind, and the
very long feelers waving to the tips of the wings, you will know that
this is a grasshopper. All this brown and black and crimson splendor
is the Old Man of the Meadow, with a very fine coat.
The grasshopper is not migratory. It does not change its home. It
dies near where it was born. Frost and cold kill it. It does not outlive
the winter, as butterflies, bees, and wasps do.
Grasshoppers appear in great numbers, but they do not go in
swarms as locusts do.
Each grasshopper lives alone. He does nothing for his neighbor, and
his neighbor does nothing for him.
When grasshoppers are numerous they damage the grass and the
young crops.

FOOTNOTES:
[14] See Nature Reader, No. 2. Lessons on Ants.
 LESSON XVIII.
THE ROBBER COUSIN.
The Old Man of the Meadow is, in his way, like a quiet country
gentleman. He roams about the fields, and likes to sing, and is fond
of moonlight. He likes the shade, and the cool, still places under the
green herbs.
He has a fierce cousin, who is a great robber, a kind of land pirate.
His name is locust.
I asked a class of boys, “What is a locust?” One said: “It is a great,
big grasshopper.”
Another said: “It is a greedy grasshopper that eats everything.”
A third said: “A locust is a grasshopper that travels in swarms.”
Now these were pretty good answers. Each had some truth in it. A
locust is not a grasshopper. But it is much like a grasshopper. It is his
very near relative.
The locust is not always larger than the grasshopper. The great
green, or the wart-biter grasshopper, is larger than the Rocky
Mountain locust. That locust is called “the hateful,” because he does
so much harm.
The locust is generally larger than the grasshopper, and one very big
locust is much larger than any grasshopper that ever was known.
And, too, the locust is much more greedy.
The locust destroys all plants that come in its way. It will eat the bark
off the trees.
Locusts live and move in swarms. Instead of living and dying in the
places where they were born, they are given to travel. They migrate
like the birds you will read of in this book.
It is not quite surely known what is the motive for their journeys.
Probably it is to get food. The locust is the child of hot lands. His first
home was, no doubt, in the great sandy plains of Asia. He is very
common in Africa. In Europe and the eastern part of the United
States he is not very common. In the Western States he has done
much damage.
If you take up a locust to examine, you will at once notice that his
feelers are much shorter than those of the grasshopper. Mrs. Locust
also is without the sword for placing her eggs. She lays them in the
earth in long tubes.
The front of the locust’s head is harder and thicker than the
grasshoppers. The hind legs are also much thicker and stronger than
even the big strong ones of the grasshopper.
The locust’s coat is of light brown or sand color. There is a delicate
green tinge on the wings. The breast has a soft vest of down. The
legs are often striped in bands of brown and yellow.
The locust does not make his music as the grasshopper does. When
he wishes to sing, Mr. Locust stands on his two front pairs of legs.
Then he lifts his hind legs, and draws them one by one, or both
together, over his wings.
The inner side of the hind legs has rough file-like edges. The wings
have thick veins, which stand like cords above the wing surface.
The file parts of the legs rub on these cords, and produce the sound.
The sound takes different tones, as one or both legs are used at a
time in making it. Sometimes the sound is very loud, sometimes it is
very low.
In the latter part of the summer, Mrs. Locust lays her eggs, fifty or
one hundred together, in a tube hidden in the earth. In places where
locusts do much harm, rewards are given for baskets full of these
tubes. Many boys make a living by digging them from the earth, and
selling them to be destroyed.
For you must know that locusts being very greedy, and very
numerous, do much harm. They move quickly, and in great swarms.
Though they live in swarms they have no queen as the bees have,
and they do no work as bees and ants do.
Probably there is no living thing seen in such numbers as the
locusts. We can scarcely believe or understand what we are told
about the multitudes of these insects which appear in the East.
They fill the sky like a great cloud, so that the day is darkened. When
they see a green place, they settle to feed. In a few minutes the
green is all gone. The place is as brown and bare as if a fire had
swept over it.
People hear with terror that the locusts are coming. They know the
crops will be eaten up. Then food will be scarce, and the people will
be poor.
If by chance a swarm is destroyed by other means than by fire, all
the air for miles will be filled with the bad smell of the decaying
bodies.
The only good that poor people can get from the locusts is by eating
them. They pull off the wings, and legs, and dry the bodies. They eat
them fried in oil and salt, or ground into meal, after roasting.
The locusts cannot fly against the wind. They go with the wind. It
brings them, and if it changes, it sweeps them away. Sometimes the
wind drives them out to sea. If they become too weary to fly, they
drop into the waves and are drowned. This often happens. Then the
water washes their bodies ashore. The coast of Africa has been
found covered thick with them, for the space of fifty miles.
But they do not always drop into the sea. They are very strong on
the wing. A great swarm of locusts was met by a ship, twelve
hundred miles from shore. They surrounded the ship, and hid the
sun.
As their flight is so strong, locusts can go from one country to
another. They pass from Africa to the south of Europe. They go from
the mainland to the islands.
Usually the locusts fly during the day, while the air is hot and dry.
Late in the day they settle to feed, and where they stop they stay
until all green things are eaten up. Of course they do not feed when
on the wing. They run along the ground to eat.
People try many ways of killing locusts. Sometimes deep trenches
are cut, and filled with water, so that the young unwinged locusts, as
they run along the ground, will fall in and be drowned. But the locusts
are in such numbers that the drowned ones soon fill the trenches.
The others run safely over the dead bodies.
Sometimes great fires are lit across their path. Then the hordes of
locusts crowd on, and at last, the fires are put out by the burned
bodies. After that, the others pass on unhurt.
You must know that the young locust is quite as greedy, and as great
a terror as his parents. In the larval and pupal states, they migrate as
well as when they have wings. They seem born to eat and to travel.
At this stage they go by walking. They march in a solid column like
soldiers. They move straight on, nothing turning them aside. Is a
house in the way? Over it and into it they go. You know some ants
move in swarms in this way.[15]
The locust, being larger, more numerous, and more greedy than the
ants, do much harm. If they find a town in their path, through it they
go. Countless numbers may be killed, but there are countless
numbers to follow. Is a river in the way? Into it they tumble, and
when enough dead bodies lie on the water to make a raft, the other
locusts pass safely over.
One great trouble about the locust is, that when a full-grown swarm
passes through a place the ground is left full of eggs. The next year
these hatch, and the larvæ and pupæ eat up all that has grown since
their parents ravaged the land.
Famines of two or three years duration have been caused in this
way. You will not wonder at the strength of locusts and the amount of
food they need, when I tell you that one kind is quite a foot broad
from tip to tip of the wings.
The great foreign locusts are very splendid to look at. They are
dressed like soldiers in crimson and blue. Their fierce eyes shine,
and the rush of their wings makes a sound like the coming of an
army.
Did I not give this locust a good name, when I called him the robber
cousin?

FOOTNOTES:
[15] See Nature Reader, No. 2. Lessons on Ants.
 LESSON XIX.
THE MERRY COUSINS.
You have heard about the robber cousin of the Old Man of the
Meadow. Now you shall hear about a very happy and harmless little
cousin. Here he is!
Did you ever meet him in your walks? Did he ever come creeping out
of a hole in the wall, or from a chink in the bricks in the hearth, and
sit down by you before the fire?
Did you notice how he waved his long feelers gently in the heat, and
seemed to bask in the glow as pussy does? If you were very still,
perhaps all at once he burst into a shrill, gay little song.
Did you notice what a shining, dark-brown coat he had? Did you see
that his tail had two long, stiff hairs, or bristles, spread out from each
other? Did you think that they were like the long tail hairs of the
bright and dainty May-fly?[16]
When you saw all this did you know your little friend well? Did you
call him by his name, “How are you, Mr. Cricket”?
Ah, the cricket is a right-jolly little fellow; let us take a good look at
him.
There are three kinds of crickets which we shall talk about. The
house cricket, the field cricket, the mole cricket.
The body of the cricket is not so slender as that of the grasshopper,
it is short and thick. It is much the shape of the first joint of your
thumb. The color is a dark, glossy brown, sometimes almost black.
The feelers are very long, longer than the whole body. The eyes are
large and round. The under wings are very large, much larger than
the wing-cases. When they are folded up, they reach out beyond the
covers and the body, in a long needle-like roll. It looks as if Mr.
Cricket were carrying home something under his arm.
Near where the wing cover joins his body, Mr. Cricket has a little, thin
drum-head for his music. He is very fond of making a noise. The
French call him “Cri-cri”[17] from the sound he makes. We call him
“cricket” for the same reason.
The cricket has strong jaws, sharp teeth, and a thick round tongue.
His feet are not broad and thick, like the grasshopper’s. He does not
run up plants as the grasshopper does. The cricket runs about the
ground. He has sharp, thin feet. Sometimes they have stiff hairs on
them.
As he runs about the ground, his long feelers warn him of any
danger in front. What do you think he has to tell him of danger
behind? He has that pair of long, stiff tail hairs, which look so much
like feelers.
Mrs. Cricket does not sing. It is Mr. Cricket that makes all the noise.
How does he make it? He has three strong veins under his left wing
cover. The largest of these is rough, like a file. This vein he uses as
a man uses the bow of a violin.
When the rough vein is drawn across the right wing cover, all the
cover trembles, or quivers, and gives out a sound, as when the bow
is drawn over the strings of a violin.
The field cricket will sing all day. The house and mole crickets sing
only at night.
Field crickets and house crickets are very much alike. The field
cricket is darker than the house cricket. He is also noisy by day. In
the winter he creeps into the earth and is torpid, unless the early cold
kills him.
I think house crickets are field crickets that have taken to living in
doors. So, in course of time, they have changed a little. But they
were all field crickets once.
Crickets are fond of moisture. They are thirsty creatures. They will
drink any liquid left in their way. They drink water, milk, soup, tea,
beer, vinegar, yeast. I have known them to come to my ink bottle to
try to drink the ink! But that killed them!
Crickets eat vegetables. They like potato. They are greedy, and will
eat whatever is in their way. They eat bread crumbs, soft grease, and
are very fond of meat. They catch and eat small insects. They eat
leather. Also they will eat woollen cloth, stockings, clothes.
Once our cook laid upon the grass a large piece of woollen blanket,
on which she had spilled some bread sponge. She left it there thirty-
six hours. When she went for it, the crickets had eaten nearly all of it.
It was so full of holes it was like a net. There were more holes than
there was blanket.
Crickets do not like to change their homes. They prefer to stay near
where they were born. If you carry them away they will use their big
wings to get home. Unless they fly to move from home to home, they
do not use their big wings very much. They walk, or hop.
The poets and story-tellers are very fond of crickets. Many people
think it is lucky to have them sing in the hearth. But there is no luck
about it. It is very pleasant and cheery to hear them sing.
In hot weather the house cricket sometimes goes into the garden to
live. In October he comes in, and finds a home in the house-wall. He
likes new houses where the mortar is not too hard for him to pull
some of it out and make his little home. He chooses the kitchen and
other well-warmed rooms to live in.
If the house is shut up and without fires for some days the cricket
becomes torpid. What do you suppose these little fellows did before
they found men to build houses for them?
In houses they keep quiet all day. They are timid things. Perhaps
they sleep. At night they come out. One wise old man who wrote
about crickets said that the tiny, new crickets came out on the
hearth-stone by hundreds. They were about the size of fleas. He
found all sizes at the same time. So he thought that they hatch at
any time if they live in a warm place.
The field cricket makes his house in the earth. He seeks a hot, sunny
spot. Then he digs out a hole with his strong jaws. This hole is often
from six to twelve inches deep.
The cricket is very timid and runs into his hole if any one comes by.
But if he is not afraid, he sits in the door of his house to catch insects
that come near. He also eats leaves and grass, that grow about his
door.
Little French children fish for crickets by tying an ant to a thread and
dropping it into the hole. You can also make Mr. Cricket come out, by
poking a blade of grass into his hole. He runs up to see what is the
matter.
Down in the bottom of the hole, Mrs. Cricket lays her eggs. They are
fastened to each other, and to the ground by a kind of glue. She lays
about three hundred eggs each year. She does not put them all in
one place.
As soon as the larvæ come out of the eggs, they run up to the top of
the ground. Each one then begins to dig a new burrow. Now and
then they get tired of a burrow, and go off to make a new one.
The little crickets in the larva and pupa state look much like the
grown ones, only they have no wings. When they are about half-
grown, they hop about, and look, and act, much like tiny toads. If the
crickets come out of the egg in July, they will reach the perfect state
the next May.
When they are full grown, they have wings, and can play a tune.
They like that. They sit in their doors and sing.
In Spain, the people like the cricket’s song so much that they keep
crickets in little cages, to sing for them. If they have plenty to eat and
drink, they will sing and be happy.
Each cricket will need a cage all for himself. Two crickets shut up
together will fight, until one is killed. Crickets always live alone.

FOOTNOTES:
[16] See Nature Reader, No. 2. “Child of an Hour.”