Page 71 of Life and Death
The sudden bleakness in her voice made me shiver, but I was relieved, too. She could have asked for something much harder. “Whatever you say.”
She sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Beau.”
I knew she wanted me to leave now. I opened the door unwillingly.
“Tomorrow,” I emphasized. I started to climb out.
“Beau?”
I turned and ducked back awkwardly, and she was leaning toward me, her pale goddess face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.
“Sleep well,” she said. Her breath blew into my face—it was the same compelling scent that haunted her car, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, totally stunned. She leaned away.
It took me a few seconds till my brain unscrambled and I was able to move again. I backed out of the car, having to use the frame for balance. I thought she might have laughed, but the sound was too quiet for me to be sure.
She waited till I’d stumbled to the front door, and then her engine quietly revved. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. It was suddenly really cold.
I reached for the key automatically and unlocked the front door.
“Beau?” my dad called from the living room.
“Yeah, Dad, it’s me.” I locked the door and then went to find him. He was on his favorite couch, a baseball game on the TV.
“Movie over so early?”
“Is it early?” It seemed like I’d been with her for days . . . or maybe it was just a few seconds. Not long enough.
“It’s not even eight yet,” he told me. “Was the show any good?”
“Er, not very memorable, actually.”
“What is that around your neck?”
I grabbed the scarf I’d forgotten and tried to yank it off, but it was wrapped too many times around my neck, and I just choked myself.
“Uh—I forgot a coat—and someone lent me a scarf.”
“It looks goofy.”
“Yeah, I figured. But it’s warm.”
“Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”
“Aren’t I always kind of pale?”
“Guess so.”
Actually, my head was starting to spin a little, and I was still cold, though I knew the room was warm.
Wouldn’t it be just like me if I did end up going into shock?Get a grip.
“I, uh, didn’t sleep great last night,” I said to Charlie. “Think I’m gonna hit the sack early.”
“’Night, kid.”
I walked up the stairs slowly, a sort of stupor starting to cloud my mind. I had no reason to be so exhausted—or so cold. I brushed my teeth and splashed some hot water on my face; it made me shiver. I didn’t bother changing, just kicked off my shoes, then climbed into the bed fully dressed—the second time in a week. I wrapped my quilt tightly around me and fought through a couple of small shudders.
My mind swirled like I was dizzy. It was full of impressions and images, some I wished I could see more clearly, and some I didn’t want to remember at all. The road whipping by too fast, the dim yellow light at the restaurant glinting in her metallic hair, the shape of her lips when she smiled . . . when she frowned . . . Jeremy’s eyes bugging half out of his head, the headlights screaming toward me, the gun pointed at my face while cold sweat beaded on my forehead. My bed shook under me as I shivered again.
