Читать книгу Dorian Gray - John Garavaglia - Страница 41

Dorian was packing anvils in his suitcases—which puzzled Dorian, who couldn’t remember bringing any. The sun moved across the sky, the shadows lengthened and George stopped coming and going.

The day started like any other. Dorian hated homeroom almost as much as he hated being called Dorie. Unfortunately, he had to put up with both of these things every day. Everyone called him Dorie like he was some annoying blue fish in a Disney movie, and he wasn’t.

And he hated homeroom.

It was mostly irritating because it had David Harrison in it. Dorian hated David Harrison. All he ever did was shoot spit wads at him and call him names with his stupid friends and called him a bastard.

Dorian hated that.

Especially the part about how his father left him and his mother.

It wasn’t Dorian’s fault that his father disappeared.

For this year, Dorian’s homeroom teacher was a stupid man named Mr. Crumb. He had fake hair on top of his head that he kept saying was real, and he had a big moustache that was all gray and black. Dorian didn’t like Mr. Crumb very much because he never made David Harrison and the other kids stop shooting spit wads at him, but he didn’t think it was very nice to call Mr. Crumb’s fake hair a dead animal.

JOHN GRAVAGLIA

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