Dead Radiance Read Online Free Page B
Author: T. G. Ayer
darkness hid the hot red of my cheeks. His deep laughter echoed as he shoved the helmet onto his head. He shut the face-piece of his helmet, cutting off the stomach-tingling sound of his voice, and revving the engine. Silver gleamed at his neck and then he disappeared into the gathering shadows.
I shoved off the swing, sending it into a creaking frenzy. Caught, embarrassed and fuming I'd even done such a thing. I pushed the front door open and barreled into the living room.
Ms. Custer's knitting occupied her generous lap; needles flashed this way and that, keen on creating her next rainbow-colored scarf. On the TV Hannibal smiled and chewed on his cigar.
"Who was that guy?" I asked, keeping my expression as neutral as possible, hoping the color in my cheeks had faded away.
"Oh, that nice young man is our latest foster." Ms. Custer had fallen for his smile, too. "He'll be moving in tomorrow bright and early."
Fabulous.
Mr. Hot Wheels, who'd made my pathetic heart race, was moving in. Just great. I harnessed my embarrassed rage, ignored the temptation to run upstairs, slam my door shut, throw myself onto my bed and scream into my pillow. Instead, I gazed through the window at the shadows that had swallowed Biker-dude. I still couldn't wipe the stupid half-smile off my face. Guess it would do no harm to have some eye candy around. And though Joshua had qualified as eye candy, he'd been my friend.
Biker-dude didn't look much like just-friend material.
Sleep eluded me, and when at last I succumbed, my dreams were hazy, filled with the bright golden gleam of Joshua and Aimee, screeching tires and crunching metal.
And the faint echo of the rev of a motorcycle engine.
Chapter 6
Morning rushed in on quicksilver feet, clear and bright and at odds with my musty sentiments. Another school day. Running the gauntlet with Cherise and her friends at North Wood High. Just great.
Before Joshua, I'd never cared much what other people thought of me. But then Joshua died and I'd survived. And now Craven deepened its hatred for the interloper, the new girl who'd come into their lovely town bringing darkness, death and destruction.
If I hadn't figured out the true meaning of the glow, I'd have done the same: blame Bryn.
I pushed scrambled eggs and pieces of hash brown around on my plate under Ms. Custer's disapproving gaze. The little yellow globs stuck to the roof of my mouth, while oily bits of fried potato tickled my throat. I had to choke down the urge to hurl.
Poor Ms. Custer was certain I was eating elsewhere and though I wished I could express my fear that my metabolism was shot to hell, I knew she'd never believe me. People believed what they wanted. Foster parents had to believe the child coming to them would be a problem. The preferred stereotype because they didn't dare to wish for a good kid and end up with a rotten one.
Ms. Custer wasn't the standard out-of-the-box foster parent, but how could anyone believe a person could survive a whole month without food? Me and my big mouth. I was simply unable to lie to her. I sighed. She thought I'd lied anyway.
I scraped off my plate when she turned away, then dragged the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Outside, I tucked my chin in against the cool wind and walked fast. The brisk trip to school cleared my head, refreshing me until I reached the sidewalk in front of the old redbrick structure of the main building. Huge windowpanes stared out, glassy eyes reflecting the clear blue sky above. The pretty picture did nothing to ease the dread in my gut.
***
I stepped into the grey gloom of the school halls, dull and drab compared to the rich red of the building's facade. Stares tickled the hair at the back of my neck; whispers raised the goose bumps on my skin.
Same old same old, until I received a summons to the vice principal's office during first period English. My feet got me to his office. Reluctantly.
Vice Principal Warren examined me from behind glasses with rims
I shoved off the swing, sending it into a creaking frenzy. Caught, embarrassed and fuming I'd even done such a thing. I pushed the front door open and barreled into the living room.
Ms. Custer's knitting occupied her generous lap; needles flashed this way and that, keen on creating her next rainbow-colored scarf. On the TV Hannibal smiled and chewed on his cigar.
"Who was that guy?" I asked, keeping my expression as neutral as possible, hoping the color in my cheeks had faded away.
"Oh, that nice young man is our latest foster." Ms. Custer had fallen for his smile, too. "He'll be moving in tomorrow bright and early."
Fabulous.
Mr. Hot Wheels, who'd made my pathetic heart race, was moving in. Just great. I harnessed my embarrassed rage, ignored the temptation to run upstairs, slam my door shut, throw myself onto my bed and scream into my pillow. Instead, I gazed through the window at the shadows that had swallowed Biker-dude. I still couldn't wipe the stupid half-smile off my face. Guess it would do no harm to have some eye candy around. And though Joshua had qualified as eye candy, he'd been my friend.
Biker-dude didn't look much like just-friend material.
Sleep eluded me, and when at last I succumbed, my dreams were hazy, filled with the bright golden gleam of Joshua and Aimee, screeching tires and crunching metal.
And the faint echo of the rev of a motorcycle engine.
Chapter 6
Morning rushed in on quicksilver feet, clear and bright and at odds with my musty sentiments. Another school day. Running the gauntlet with Cherise and her friends at North Wood High. Just great.
Before Joshua, I'd never cared much what other people thought of me. But then Joshua died and I'd survived. And now Craven deepened its hatred for the interloper, the new girl who'd come into their lovely town bringing darkness, death and destruction.
If I hadn't figured out the true meaning of the glow, I'd have done the same: blame Bryn.
I pushed scrambled eggs and pieces of hash brown around on my plate under Ms. Custer's disapproving gaze. The little yellow globs stuck to the roof of my mouth, while oily bits of fried potato tickled my throat. I had to choke down the urge to hurl.
Poor Ms. Custer was certain I was eating elsewhere and though I wished I could express my fear that my metabolism was shot to hell, I knew she'd never believe me. People believed what they wanted. Foster parents had to believe the child coming to them would be a problem. The preferred stereotype because they didn't dare to wish for a good kid and end up with a rotten one.
Ms. Custer wasn't the standard out-of-the-box foster parent, but how could anyone believe a person could survive a whole month without food? Me and my big mouth. I was simply unable to lie to her. I sighed. She thought I'd lied anyway.
I scraped off my plate when she turned away, then dragged the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Outside, I tucked my chin in against the cool wind and walked fast. The brisk trip to school cleared my head, refreshing me until I reached the sidewalk in front of the old redbrick structure of the main building. Huge windowpanes stared out, glassy eyes reflecting the clear blue sky above. The pretty picture did nothing to ease the dread in my gut.
***
I stepped into the grey gloom of the school halls, dull and drab compared to the rich red of the building's facade. Stares tickled the hair at the back of my neck; whispers raised the goose bumps on my skin.
Same old same old, until I received a summons to the vice principal's office during first period English. My feet got me to his office. Reluctantly.
Vice Principal Warren examined me from behind glasses with rims
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