hand and pushed me back down. “Just go to sleep, Mac. You’re exhausted.”
“But . . .”
“Forget I said anything. I was only talking.” He stood.
“Actualy,” he said, “I think I wil go back to the couch.”
“Jason . . .”
He paused at my bedroom door. “Night, Mac.”
I swalowed. “Night.”
When I was certain he was settled on the couch, when I could no longer hear him moving around the living room, I grabbed my iPod from the nightstand and scroled through the videos until I found one that had been taken last November fourteenth. I needed an image of Amy, something to wipe out the nightmare.
I turned the volume down low enough that Jason wouldn’t hear and hit play.
Amy’s hand reached toward me. “Put the camera down, birthday girl.”
“No way,” came my voice from somewhere offscreen. “The second I stop taking pictures, you’re going to make me play kid games.”
Amy roled her eyes. “That’s the point, Mac. We’re at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Games are mandatory.”
I hit pause. Amy’s face filed the screen, whole and perfect and not at al like it had been in my dream. Her grin was huge, and a temporary glitter tattoo of a star adorned her cheek. I’d worn a matching one at her insistence.
She’d talked Tess into letting her throw me a birthday party at She’d talked Tess into letting her throw me a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese’s when I turned seventeen. She said it was to make up for al the nonbirthdays I’d had when I was with Hank. It had been lame and embarrassing and, somehow, just right.
With a shaky breath, I turned off the iPod and wiped my eyes with the corner of my sheet. Then I prayed.
Are you there, Amy? It’s me, Mac.
She didn’t answer.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
.....................................................................
Chapter 4
SHRILL BUZZING CUT THROUGH MY SLEEP, LEAVING MY leaving my dream in tatters. I threw back the covers, gasped as my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and stumble-dashed to the intercom.
I hit the button to trip the downstairs lock and glanced around the living room. There was no sign of Jason. I grabbed a white hoodie from the laundry basket Tess had left near the door and puled it on over the tank top and shorts I had worn to bed.
puled it on over the tank top and shorts I had worn to bed.
I opened the door, wrinkling my nose at the smel of stale cigar smoke from the apartment across the hal. “I overslept!” I caled. “I totaly forgot to set my alarm.”
“You didn’t. I’m early.”
I surveyed the sight before me as Kyle hit the top of the stairs.
“Wow,” I said, crossing my arms to ward off the chil from the halway. “You look horrible.” I stood to the side and Kyle walked in.
He shrugged and headed for the kitchen. I folowed and watched him search for coffee. “Second cupboard,” I reminded him.
Kyle’s clothes were rumpled. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was moving stiffly. His shaggy, brown hair was a mess and he hadn’t shaved. Kyle usualy looked slightly disheveled in a vaguely sexy way—like an artist or the bassist in a band—but right now he looked as though he had slept in a ditch.
“You weren’t in a fight, were you?”
“No.”
“Did you go over to Heather’s?”
“Yes.” He spooned coffee into a filter without looking at me.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not realy.” He raked a hand through his hair and met my eyes.
“That al right?”
If it had been a fight with his ex, it was probably best if I knew as little as possible. Heather hated me. With a vengeance. Kyle’s girlfriends always did.
girlfriends always did.
I squinted at the clock on the microwave: 6:45 a.m. “Didn’t you go home at al?”
“Mac . . .”
“Al right. Dropping subject.” I leaned tiredly against the counter and tried not to shiver. Living in a building that dated back to the 1880s might be great for atmosphere, but it was
“But . . .”
“Forget I said anything. I was only talking.” He stood.
“Actualy,” he said, “I think I wil go back to the couch.”
“Jason . . .”
He paused at my bedroom door. “Night, Mac.”
I swalowed. “Night.”
When I was certain he was settled on the couch, when I could no longer hear him moving around the living room, I grabbed my iPod from the nightstand and scroled through the videos until I found one that had been taken last November fourteenth. I needed an image of Amy, something to wipe out the nightmare.
I turned the volume down low enough that Jason wouldn’t hear and hit play.
Amy’s hand reached toward me. “Put the camera down, birthday girl.”
“No way,” came my voice from somewhere offscreen. “The second I stop taking pictures, you’re going to make me play kid games.”
Amy roled her eyes. “That’s the point, Mac. We’re at Chuck E. Cheese’s. Games are mandatory.”
I hit pause. Amy’s face filed the screen, whole and perfect and not at al like it had been in my dream. Her grin was huge, and a temporary glitter tattoo of a star adorned her cheek. I’d worn a matching one at her insistence.
She’d talked Tess into letting her throw me a birthday party at She’d talked Tess into letting her throw me a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese’s when I turned seventeen. She said it was to make up for al the nonbirthdays I’d had when I was with Hank. It had been lame and embarrassing and, somehow, just right.
With a shaky breath, I turned off the iPod and wiped my eyes with the corner of my sheet. Then I prayed.
Are you there, Amy? It’s me, Mac.
She didn’t answer.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
.....................................................................
Chapter 4
SHRILL BUZZING CUT THROUGH MY SLEEP, LEAVING MY leaving my dream in tatters. I threw back the covers, gasped as my bare feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and stumble-dashed to the intercom.
I hit the button to trip the downstairs lock and glanced around the living room. There was no sign of Jason. I grabbed a white hoodie from the laundry basket Tess had left near the door and puled it on over the tank top and shorts I had worn to bed.
puled it on over the tank top and shorts I had worn to bed.
I opened the door, wrinkling my nose at the smel of stale cigar smoke from the apartment across the hal. “I overslept!” I caled. “I totaly forgot to set my alarm.”
“You didn’t. I’m early.”
I surveyed the sight before me as Kyle hit the top of the stairs.
“Wow,” I said, crossing my arms to ward off the chil from the halway. “You look horrible.” I stood to the side and Kyle walked in.
He shrugged and headed for the kitchen. I folowed and watched him search for coffee. “Second cupboard,” I reminded him.
Kyle’s clothes were rumpled. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was moving stiffly. His shaggy, brown hair was a mess and he hadn’t shaved. Kyle usualy looked slightly disheveled in a vaguely sexy way—like an artist or the bassist in a band—but right now he looked as though he had slept in a ditch.
“You weren’t in a fight, were you?”
“No.”
“Did you go over to Heather’s?”
“Yes.” He spooned coffee into a filter without looking at me.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not realy.” He raked a hand through his hair and met my eyes.
“That al right?”
If it had been a fight with his ex, it was probably best if I knew as little as possible. Heather hated me. With a vengeance. Kyle’s girlfriends always did.
girlfriends always did.
I squinted at the clock on the microwave: 6:45 a.m. “Didn’t you go home at al?”
“Mac . . .”
“Al right. Dropping subject.” I leaned tiredly against the counter and tried not to shiver. Living in a building that dated back to the 1880s might be great for atmosphere, but it was
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