Read The Almost Girl – ebook edition for Free Online Page B

June second-guessing her own doubt. She’s too good of a doctor to have been wrong, and she knows it. Quickly, I say, “I’m just glad I’m better now. Crutches are a pain. Being the local fainting gimp is even worse.”
    The truth is, I feel better than I have in years. Ever. I can’t explain it, but it’s as if a switch has been turned on inside of me – my body feels limber, my brain crystal-clear. Maybe I’m finally getting used to this place.
    A smile. “I still want you to take it easy for a couple more days. There’s no swelling, but with this kind of recovery, I wouldn’t want you to overdo it just because it looks and feels OK.”
    “Got it.”
    She’s silent for a while, then says quietly, “Amazing,” her fingers still resting against my foot.
    “June? Caden said that my keys were in the kitchen,” I suggest helpfully.
    As if in a trance, June blinks and stands, but I can see that her brain is still furiously ticking. “Oh, yes, of course. Caden isn’t here; he’s at a fencing meet at the school, I think,” she says while she’s looking for the keys in the kitchen. “But I think he would have put them in one of these drawers.”
    “Fencing?”
    June shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I like chess myself, but he has a natural affinity for it, and while I’m not a fan of any combat-weapon sport, he does seem to enjoy it. I’ve only been to a few of his meets, but he’s pretty good. Or so I see.” She grins. “Have you seen the trophy shelves in his room?”
    I shake my head. No. “Fencing,” I repeat softly to myself.
    The sport itself is beautiful to watch, as elaborate as dancing, with elongated parries and delicate thrusts. I know it well because we are all trained in the art of most hand-to-hand combat techniques by the tender age of five, and all manner of weaponry by seven. Swords, bows, knives, spears, axes, and guns… everything you could conceivably use to dispatch an enemy. The sword has always been my favorite. Cale always favored the crossbow. For a second, the memory of one of our first training sessions together flashes through my brain, and June fidgeting through the drawers in the kitchen fades into the background.
    We had been assigned to one another for formal training, and had to face a mock obstacle course with various threats. I’d just turned eight. Though I was small for my age, I was lightning-fast and held the advantage of having held a sword before the age of two. Already, I was at the top of my age group in any kind of martial arts training.
    When we were paired up for the test before the final assignments on specialized-weapon training were made, we automatically sized the other up. His shock of glossy brown hair made him look impish, but the expression on his face was boldly confident.
    “You’re small,” he said, his voice matching the arrogant expression. “Looks like I’ll have to pick up the slack.”
    “How come you’re not paired with someone your own level?” I blurted out.
    “Guess they think you need babysitting.”
    I’d felt like slapping him. My scowl was fierce, but he’d just laughed in my face as if I were nothing more than a kitten defending its toy. I found this boy’s arrogance to be so grating and his overconfidence so irritating that I vowed then and there to teach him a lesson.
    “Try to keep up,” I snarled, and took off just as the whistle blew, jumping over fences and scaling walls. I didn’t even look behind me to see if he was keeping up, even though part of the test was to protect your partner at all times. I was too angry. Irrationally, I wanted to show this rude boy exactly what I could do.
    Two hologen targets jumped up in front of me, one a wild jaguar and the other some kind of bird. I shot them with the rifle slung across my back, both easy hits. It was then that I heard the shout of pain, and in that brief second, the red clouding my brain cleared. The boy was hurt.
    I could go back and get him, or I could leave