Breathless (10 page)

Read Breathless Online

Authors: Cole Gibsen

BOOK: Breathless
5.92Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I dug into my pocket and withdrew the green stone Bastin gave me.

“What is
that
?” Morgan asked when I opened my palm.

I shrugged. “I found it on the beach. I was hoping you could maybe dril a hole in it so I could string it on a necklace or something. That seems a lot safer than carrying it around in my pocket.”

Morgan took the stone from my hand and turned it over with her fingers. “Sure. But why are you carrying it around in your pocket in the first place?”

“Because I like it.” But the truth was, I carried it with me because it reminded me that Bastin wasn’t a dream I’d made up. He became real al over again every time I fingered the polished stone. I wasn’t sure exactly why that should be important to me, but it was.

Morgan pocketed the stone and saluted me. “Okey-dokey.”

With the stone out of my possession I felt a flash of panic. “Be careful with it, promise?”

“I promise.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you found it on the beach?”

Before I could answer, the water fountain across the hal burst open spraying water straight in the air. Several underclassmen screamed and darted out of the way as the spigot clanked down the hal way.

“Hal way hurricane!” Morgan cal ed out to the forming crowd of gawkers. She thrust her backpack over her head and yanked me forward by my wrist. “Stupid school is fal ing apart.”

I nodded in agreement, but a nagging feeling told me there was something else going on.

I chewed on it during Chemistry. While Ms. Whitman prattled on about chemical compounds, I drew a table in my notebook and listed everything I could remember about the faucet leaks—from the type of soap in the bathroom to the weather conditions before the leaks happened. Then I circled common factors and drew lines to connect them.

When the end of class bel rang, I sat back and studied my work. Every instance had one thing in common: me.

A sour taste rose up the back of my throat as I stuffed my books into my bag and walked from class. So what did I have to do with the leaking faucets? The idea that my nearness could be causing them was ridiculous. Yet what other explanation was there? There had to be something I was missing . . .

“Hey! You look terrible.” Morgan fel into step beside me. “Don’t feel bad about it, though. Chem gives me hives. You think I could get a doctor’s excuse?”

I gave her a half-smile.

“I have something that wil make you feel better,” she sang. “Ta Da!” She thrust her hand at me. The green stone sat on her open palm with hole dril ed neatly through it.

“It’s perfect!” I took the stone, feeling instantly better having it pressed against my skin. “Thanks so much.”

She waved dismissively. “Don’t mention it.”

We walked to study hal together and, afterwards—after a quick change and makeup scrub in the girls’ bathroom—out to the parking lot where I was pleasantly surprised to find my mom waiting for me. I said goodbye to Morgan before climbing into our tan minivan.

Mom smiled and motioned to Morgan. “Is that your new friend?”

After buckling my seatbelt, I stuck my hand into my jeans pocket and fingered the stone inside. “Yeah.”

Mom shifted the van into gear and pul ed away from the curb. “That’s great. I told you al you needed was a little bit of time.”

I didn’t answer, only twisted the stone around and around with my fingers.

“So your father’s very excited about being invited to the Base Commander’s for dinner.”

I nodded.

A Journey song came on the radio and Mom hummed along. When it was over, she turned the volume down with a sigh. “How are things going, Edi-girl?”

“Um, okay I guess.” It wasn’t like I could tel her about spending the night with Bastin or being accused of murder by Gabriel e in front of the whole school. That type of behavior wouldn’t work for the daughter she’d believed I was—even though it was a lie.

She cleared her throat. “I received a cal from your principal today.”

My chest tightened. I should have known I’d get busted one way or another. “What did she want?”

Mom looked at me. “She said you didn’t attend any of your classes yesterday.”

I chewed on my lip as my heart pounded against my ribs. “Does Sir know?” My voice was barely a whisper.

She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

The knot in my chest loosened. “You don’t?”

“No,” she continued. “But I want you to promise not to make this a habit. After everything you’ve gone through, I know how difficult it must be for you to return to class. As long as this was a single occurrence—
not
to be repeated,” her voice took on a threatening tone, “I think we can keep the skipping between the two of us. Sound like a deal?”

I bobbed my head, realizing how close I’d come to disaster. “Deal.”

Mom smiled at me before returning her attention to the road. “Great. I’ve got plenty to deal with at the moment without having to worry about you.

Would you believe that when I got up this morning, al of the faucets were dripping? Even the toilets were running. I cal ed a plumber to come look at it and when he showed up, everything was working fine and he couldn’t find anything wrong. Can you believe that?”

I shook my head, hoping I didn’t look as pale as I felt.

Chapter 14

Shortly after I pul ed my nightgown over my head, there was a knock at my door. “Just a sec!” I quickly rol ed my jeans up my calves then smoothed my nightgown over them. “Okay. Come in.”

Mom walked in, stil wearing her tattered cooking apron, and shut the door. “Getting ready for bed a little early tonight, I see.”

I tugged on the gown and prayed my jeans wouldn’t unravel underneath. “Yeah. I’m . . . not feeling so wel .”

“Mm-hmm.” Mom sat down on my bed and patted the area next to her. “I noticed you hardly touched your dinner.”

That surprised me. I hardly
ever
touched my dinner—but tonight she’d
noticed
. Meat didn’t agree with me. If I had a choice I wouldn’t eat it at al .

But in this house, being a vegetarian was as bad as being a baby kil er or a Democrat. I shrugged and sat next to Mom on my bed. The smel of lemon dish soap overpowered her English rose perfume. “I guess I’m stil recovering.”

She nodded and patted my knee. I stiffened but relaxed when she seemed unaware of the denim underneath. “I won’t keep you up if you need your rest. But how about a quick Dog of the Day before you go to bed?”

“Sure.” I smiled.

Mom stood and walked to my desk, ripping yesterday’s dog from the calendar. “Today’s dog is the Havanese.” She showed me a picture of a dog that looked like an overturned dust mop.

I wrinkled my nose. “Uh-uh. You don’t even have to read the description.”

She studied the picture. “You can tel just by looking? What are you,
The Dog Whisperer?

I laughed and tugged on a lock of my hair. “No. I just don’t want a dog that has longer hair than me.”

She smiled and set down the calendar. “Maybe tomorrow’s dog, then.”

“Maybe.”

She walked over and kissed my forehead. “Hmm . . .” She straightened, her brow furrowed, and pressed a lemon-scented hand against my forehead. “It’s a good thing you’re going to bed. You feel flush.”

Understatement of the year. In anticipation of my escape, adrenaline coursed through my veins like an electric current, igniting my nerves and forcing my heart into a gal op.

“I’m fine,” I said, sliding out from under her fingers and wiggling under my covers, careful not to expose my pants. “Night, Mom.”

“Night.” She hesitated, twisting her ring around her finger several times, before final y backing out the door and shutting it behind her.

I counted to ten before exhaling loudly. She was gone.

Now al I had to do was wait for Bastin to appear.

My stomach twisted at the thought of seeing him again. Last night, when I’d sat beside him on the grass, I’d felt real y and truly alive for the first time in my life. I was aware of every beat of my heart, every breath in my lungs, and I couldn’t wait to feel that way again.

Earlier in the night, I’d fashioned an anklet from hemp, weaving the two remaining pearls from my Aunt Margie’s necklace into it, along with the green stone Bastin gave me. I curled my knees into my chest so I could twist the green stone between my fingers. Its calming magic worked a little too wel , because the next thing I knew, a sharp rap at the sliding door pul ed me from the depths of sleep with a gasp.

A glance at my clock radio showed the time to be a little after one in the morning. From my bed, I could make out Bastin’s orb-like eyes. But they paled in comparison to his smile, which sent happy tremors dancing along my skin.

Peeling back the covers, I slipped the nightgown over my head and straightened the T-shirt I wore underneath. Final y, I uncuffed my jeans and slid on a pair of flip flops before quietly letting myself into the backyard.

Bastin grinned. “I was worried you wouldn’t come.” He held out his hand.

I slipped my hand inside of his and his fingers wove into mine. My breath hitched in my throat and it took several attempts of clearing it before I could talk. “Why would you think that?”

He shrugged and led me down the same path we walked the night before. “Because of what I am. Because of what I let happen to you.” His skin was strangely cool against the warm night.

With my free hand, I scratched at the bandage on my shoulder. “But it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t mean for Luna to hurt me.”

“No. I didn’t.” His shoulders went rigid and his grip on my hand tightened. “I wish I had been there in time to stop her. You’d think that considering I’m a prince, I’d have more control over my father’s guard.” He shook his head. “But the reality is I have so little control over anything.”

I nodded. “I know
exactly
how you feel. Sir, my stepdad, has been waiting for me to mess up so he can send me away.”

Bastin stopped walking. “He’d banish you?”

I nodded. That was the perfect word for it:
banishment.

Bastin looked angry, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he urged me forward with a gentle tug on my hand.

We reached the dock where we’d been the previous night, and this time I al owed him to lead me down the dried-out planks to the end where we sat, the wood smooth and worn under my legs. Bastin let go of my hand so I could take off my sandals. The water was too chil y to hang my feet in, so I drew circles on the water with my toes. Bastin, unfazed by the temperature, let his feet sink to his ankles. He leaned back on his elbows and stared at the stars.

My fingers itched, suddenly aware of the skin no longer pressed against my own.

“Do you think we’l ever be free?”

Bastin’s question startled me, and I looked up to see my own wide-eyed stare reflected in the depths of his eyes. Free? Before Bastin, that word didn’t exist in my vocabulary. But now, sitting next to him on the dock, a strange new sensation swirled inside of me, making me lightheaded. Hope.

“I don’t know. Sir controls everything in my life from the food I eat to the clothes I wear. Other than switching outfits at school, this is the first time I’ve broken orders.”

Bastin grinned, warming the pit of my stomach. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I grinned back. “You say that like you’re familiar with the feeling.”

“Probably a little
too
familiar.” He chuckled, a sound that burned a path from my cheeks to my chest, then sobered. “But seriously, this stepdad of yours, why are you so afraid of him?”

I pul ed my legs back onto the dock and hugged my knees against my chest. “Because he’s scary. He’s mean. Nothing I ever do is good enough, and he wants to send me away.”

“He’s only a man,” Bastin said.

“And a pit-bul is only a dog.”

Bastin frowned. “Has he ever hurt you?” His eyes locked onto mine. “Physical y?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not like that. He’s never laid a hand on me.” If fact, I couldn’t remember the last time he touched me for any reason. “But I’m stil scared of him.”

“Okay, then.” Bastin stood. “I’l be right back.” Without waiting for me to respond, he turned and dove off the dock.

“But—” I looked around. The closest house was several hundred feet away. Where could he have gone? I crept to the edge of the dock and peered into the water. It was too dark to see anything in the night-soaked water. I watched for a ripple, an air bubble, anything to show me where Bastin had swam off to, but besides the gentle lapping of waves, the water remained stil .

“Bastin?” I cal ed. There was no answer. I paced the dock. His abrupt departure didn’t make sense. We had been talking about Sir and he’d just .

. . left. I wrapped my arms around my body to ward off a chil as a cool bayou breeze tickled my skin.

A minute passed. And then another. I stopped pacing and stood in the middle of the dock. Had I said or done something wrong? What if Bastin wasn’t coming back? I took a tentative step back toward the shore. It wasn’t like I could sit here al night. I waited another minute before deciding enough was enough. I turned to leave, and that’s when I heard it—the splash of something breaking the surface of the water.

“Edith, where are you going?” Bastin cal ed. “I have a surprise for you!”

I stopped, looked over my shoulder, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Bastin stood knee-deep in the water, holding a three-foot-long thrashing al igator. He held the furious reptile, one hand clamping the al igator’s snout shut and his other arm supporting the base of the al igator’s tail.

“Bastin, what the hel ?” Instinct told me to get as far away from the reptile as I could.

He grinned broadly and held the al igator out to me like an offering. “Surprise!”

I shuddered and my skin pul ed at my bones as if it wanted to break free from my body. I jerked back and nearly stumbled in my retreat off of the dock. I’d watched enough
Animal Planet
to know that even a smal al igator, like the one Bastin held, would have no trouble ripping my face off. “I don’t want that thing! Put it back!”

“Why would I do that?” he asked and walked out of the water toward me. For every step he took forward, I took a step back. “He wasn’t easy to catch. Look! He’s extra feisty!”

Other books

The Butterfly Sister by Amy Gail Hansen
Thieving Weasels by Billy Taylor
Wet Part 3 by Rivera, S Jackson
Mark's Story by Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins
Into the Labyrinth by Weis, Margaret, Hickman, Tracy
True Vision by Joyce Lamb
Countdown by Natalie Standiford
Microcosm by Carl Zimmer
Rejoice by Karen Kingsbury