Read Running Red for Free Online Page B

sunroom, where he lays me down on a daybed with a bright yellow, vinyl cushion. The bed is soft, like a cloud. Dusty sunlight cuts a path onto my face from one of the four large windows above me. Aubrey stares at me with familiar eyes. For an instant his head is replaced by Yuki’s. I giggle, blink, and Aubrey is back.
    Someone says something and Aubrey looks away from me. He leaves the room. I’m left alone with the bearded man. He looks down at me and smiles.
    He says, “Hello, Sunshine.”
    I should have stayed hidden in the storeroom of the Get Gas. There was a reason I partnered up with a dog. Yuki was loyal, trustworthy. She was a best friend.
    And I left her behind because of a pair of cool, blue eyes.
    * * *
    I wake up in my old bedroom. I’m back in my parents’ house. I am surprised to be back here. My next thought is, “Where’s Jess? Does she have the baby?” The house has that empty feel, and I can sense the loneliness along my arms as the gooseflesh pops and deep in my chest as the solitude crushes me. My mind’s eye seeks out each room, searching for someone, anyone. I think I am alone.
    It’s either early morning or late evening because the sun isn’t all that bright and it hangs so that it glows directly into my eyes through a narrow slot between window blind and windowsill. I sit up in my bed and look around. The sun is at an angle that it shines into my eyes. I shield them with my hand.
    “Hey, Sunshine,” someone says. I know the voice. I look over at my cluttered desk. All of my posters and printouts of alternative bands and singers are still pinned around my mirror. My computer is on and I see Lane. His black hair has blue highlights on the bangs. He’s pulled the bangs up into a kind of pointy pompadour over his right temple. All of his piercings are in his nose and ear. The spiked dog collar we got at a pet store is hanging loosely around his neck.
    “Where are you?” I ask. I slide over on the bed. I want him to sit next to me. He stands at the door. “You haven’t been around lately.”
    Lane says, “I’ve been making you pancakes. Your dad won’t let me bring them to you.”
    “You can bring them now,” I say.
    “No, I can’t,” Lane says.
    “My dad’s not home.”
    “I know. He’s here.”
    My dad leans into the screen. I see his thinning hair, his shiny forehead, his puffy, red cheeks, the plastic and wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He pushes them up and I notice his fingernails are painted pink.
    “Dad, why are you at Lane’s?” I ask.
    He puts his finger to his lips and the tip pops open. Red juice runs out of it and down his chin. Red juice sprays from his fingertip. Red juice begins spilling out of my screen.
    My bedroom door flies open. My mom is covered in strawberry colored pimples. She scratches at them, ripping them open. Red juice runs down her arms. Mom screams at me. “This is what happens,” she says. “This is what happens.”
    And I know she’s blaming me for the rash.

Five
    A low watt bulb burns in a pull lamp at the foot of the daybed. It casts a yellowish glow over the narrow room. The bare bulb reflects against one of the panes of glass above and beside me. Night shrouds the world beyond the panes of glass. The small sunroom is quiet. There’s something comforting about my surroundings. I don’t feel alone here, but I don’t feel safe, either.
    One of the windows is open. I can hear music outside: A man sings and plays a guitar. Someone accompanies him on a harmonica. It’s an old song, and I can pick out some of the words. When it gets to the part everyone outside knows, the crowd joins in with the guitar player. It sounds like there is a party going on in the backyard.
    A cool breeze rolls past the loose screen in the window. I watch the meshing undulate, as if the house is breathing. Campfire smoke drifts past. It is summer and it is night, and somewhere under the stars there is a bonfire. Tiny tears sting my eyes. There