Read By the Pale Moonlight (Book One of the Moonlight Series) for Free Online Page A

other than there's some wild animal on
the loose doing a Freddy Krueger number on people," David
muttered.
    "Is it true she was attacked by an animal?" I
gulped, surprised to find I had been the one to ask the question.
The fact I had stood to do so, shocked me even more. All eyes
rolled in my direction, and I quickly ducked back into my
chair.
    "Thank you, Ms. Wilhelm." Mrs. Kramer's
clipped words prompted me to slide down even further. David
chuckled beside me.
    "As I was saying," she continued, "the matter
is well in hand."
    She introduced several grief counselors who
would be available to students. After they all filed forward to
introduce themselves, a police officer made a short announcement,
reiterating the point that we were all perfectly safe. Somehow, I
wasn't reassured.
    Mrs. Kramer returned to the podium. "At this
time, I would like to take a moment of silence in Ms. Urwin's
honor. I'll ask that you bow your heads."
    I pulled a knee to my chest and concentrated
on a small tear in the upholstered chair in front of me. The
seconds seemed to last forever as an inexplicable grief washed
through me.
    Before closing the assembly, Mrs. Kramer
announced the time and place of Kim's memorial service and funeral.
"Our thoughts and prayers will be with Kim's family.
    "Be safe. Remember I will be available should
any of you need to talk. Now...I'll ask you to return to your
fourth period classes. Thank you."
    Students started filing out the doors, the
respectful silence they had maintained during the assembly slowly
fading. Nervous banter began and then an occasional laugh
interjected above the growing buzz. I lingered in my seat,
muttering to David that he should go on without me.
    I felt sick, my body taut. It could've been
me.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs.
Kramer approaching. A student stepped in her path and they spoke in
low tones. Saying a silent prayer of thanks, I took the opportunity
to slip out of the side door of the auditorium. It led to a small
stairwell, and I descended the steps to stand on the lawn below. In
the distance, the football field and surrounding stands loomed. I
tried to steady my uneven breathing, the fear threatening to take
control.
    The scratch of a lighter being sparked
interrupted the moment; I whipped around to find Caleb Martin
leaning casually against the school building. He lit his cigarette
and snapped the silver lighter closed with a flick of his wrist.
Dark eyes studied me while he took a deep drag, his expression
somewhere between annoyance and amusement.
    I shifted uneasily, ready to make a quick
escape.
    "What are you doing out here?" I asked, a
slight edge to my voice.
    He shook black hair out of his face and
squinted into the bright sun. Dressed in torn jeans and a black
long-sleeved T-shirt, he seemed out of place amid the brilliant
fall colors surrounding us. In lieu of answering me, he shook a
cigarette loose from his pack and offered it to me.
    I shook my head quickly. "No, thank you."
    The pack disappeared into his front pocket,
but still he remained silent, watching and thinking Lord knows
what.
    In the same school since his family moved to
town during the fifth grade, our crowds might have been on separate
planets for all the times our paths crossed. There had been that
one time, of course—back in the 10th grade. The memory wasn't a
pleasant one. After a stint of tutoring him in math, I'd been
shocked when he unabashedly asked me out. I'd had to say no. My
friends never would've forgiven me if I'd dared to date someone
like him.
    Caleb tried to play it off like it wasn't a
big deal, but I'd seen the hurt in his eyes.
    "You think you're too good for me, but you're
not," he had said.
    "That isn't it," I said, face burning. But in
reality, he had hit the proverbial nail on the head.
    Angry, he turned and stomped off, his black
hair bouncing against his jacket.
    We hadn't spoken since. For all I knew, he
still held a grudge against me. It wasn't one of my finer