Every Last Breath - Armentrout Jennifer L. (читаем книги онлайн без регистрации .TXT) 📗

Use your words. I squeezed my eyes shut. Dr. Taft had said that phrase a million times over, as had the speech therapist that had worked with me three times a week for two years. Use your words. Words flew through my head like a flock of birds migrating south for the winter. Words were never the problem. I had them, always had them, but it was the plucking the words out and putting a voice to them that had always been tricky.

I drew in a breath and then swallowed. “Yeah. Yes. I’m... ready.”

And I had to be ready, because today was a big day. It went beyond attending a new school. If I had any hope of attending college next year like a normal, functioning person, I had to make it through one year of public school.

I had to.

A small smile tipped up his lips as he scooped a long strand of auburn hair back from my face. My hair was more brown than red until I stepped outside. Then I turned into a living, breathing crimson fire engine of redheaded awkwardness. “You can do this. I completely believe that,” he said, dipping to place a kiss on my forehead. “You just have to believe that, Mallory.”

My breath hitched in my throat. “Thank you.”

Two words.

They weren’t powerful enough, because how could they be when Carl and Rosa had saved my life?

Literally and figuratively. When it came to them, I’d been at the right place at the right moment for all the wrong reasons in the universe. Our story was something straight out of an Oprah special or an ABC Family movie. Unreal.

Saying thank you would never be enough.

I hurried to the island and grabbed my book bag and keys before I broke down and started crying like a kid that just discovered Santa wasn’t real.

As if he read my mind, he stopped me at the door. “Don’t thank me,” he said. “Show me.”

I started to nod, but stopped myself. “Okay.”

He grinned then, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “Good luck.”

Opening the front door, I stepped out on the narrow stoop and into the warm air and bright sun of a late August morning. My gaze drifted over the neatly landscaped front yard that matched the house across the street, and was identical to every house in the Pointe subdivision.

Every house.

Sometimes it still shocked me that I was living in a place like this—a big home with a yard and flowers artfully planted, and a car in the recently asphalted driveway that was mine. Like I’d wake up and find myself back...

I shook my head, pushing those thoughts away as I approached the decade-old Honda Civic. Kept in great condition, the silver paint hadn’t faded. The car had belonged to Rosa and Carl’s real daughter, a high school graduation gift given to Marquette before she’d left for college to become a doctor, like them.

Except she never made it to college. An aneurysm. There one minute and gone the next, and there had been nothing that could be done. I imagined that was something Rosa and Carl had always struggled with... They saved so many lives, but couldn’t save their daughter.

It was a little weird since the car belonged to me now, like I was somehow a replacement child.

They never made me feel that way and I’d never say that out loud, but still, when I got behind the wheel I couldn’t help but think about Marquette.

Before I backed out of the driveway, the reflection of my eyes in the rearview mirror snagged my attention. They were way too wide. I looked like a deer about to get slammed by a semi, if deer had blue eyes, but whatever. The skin around my eyes was pale, my brows knitted. I looked scared.

Sigh.

Relaxing my face took effort, and practically the entire twenty-eight-minute drive to Lands High, and the moment the three-story brick school came into view, beyond the baseball and football fields, all that effort went to waste.

My stomach twisted as my hands tightened on the steering wheel. The school was huge and relatively new. The website said it had been built in the nineties, and compared to other schools, it was still shiny.

Shiny and huge.

I passed the buses turning to do their drop-off in the roundabout and followed another car around the sprawling structure, to the mall-size parking lot. Parking wasn’t hard, and I was a little early, so I used that fifteen minutes to do something akin to a daily affirmation, just as cheesy and embarrassing.

I can do this. I will do this. Over and over, I repeated those words as I climbed out of the Honda, slinging the bag over my shoulder. My heart pounded as I looked around me, taking in the sea of faces streaming toward the walkway leading to the back entrance of Lands High. Different features, colors, shapes and sizes greeted me. For a moment it was like my brain was a second away from short-circuiting. I held my breath. Eyes glanced over me, some lingering and some moving on as if they didn’t even notice me standing there, which was okay in a way, because I was used to being a ghost.

But I wasn’t supposed to be a ghost anymore. Christ—that was the whole point of being here. My hand fluttered to the strap of my bag and, mouth dry, I forced my legs to move.

First big step was joining the wave of people, slipping in beside them and focusing on the blond ponytail of the girl in front of me. My gaze dipped. She was wearing a jean skirt and sandals. Bright orange, strappy gladiator-style sandals. They were cute. I could tell her that. Strike up a conversation.

I said nothing.

Her legs were toned, as if she was a runner like Rosa. The girl in front of me had gorgeous legs.

Mine were the equivalent of twigs, much like my arms. When I was younger, I remembered being told I’d blow away in a strong gust of wind. Not much had changed.

And I really needed to stop staring at her legs.

Lifting my gaze, my eyes collided with a boy next to me. Sleep clung to his expression. He didn’t smile or frown or do anything other than turn his attention back to the cell phone he held in his hand. I wasn’t even sure if he saw me.

The morning air was warm, but the moment I stepped into the near frigid school, I was grateful for the thin cardigan I’d carefully paired with the tank top and jeans.

From the entrance, everyone spread out in different directions. Smaller students who were roughly around my height, but were definitely much younger, speed-walked over the red and blue Viking painted on the floor, their book bags thumping off their backs as they dodged taller and broader bodies. Others walked like zombies, gaits slow and almost roaming aimlessly. I was somewhere in the middle, moving at a normal pace, average.

But there were some who raced toward others, hugging them and laughing. I guessed they were friends who hadn’t seen each other over the summer break or maybe they were just really excitable people. Either way, I stared at them as I walked. Seeing them reminded me of Ainsley. Like me, she’d been homeschooled—still was—but if she wasn’t, I imagined we’d be like them right now, hopping toward one another, grinning and excited. Normal.

Ainsley was probably still in bed.

I took the stairwell at the end of the wide hall, near the entrance to the crowded cafeteria. Even being close to the lunch room had my heart thumping. I didn’t even want to think about that right now, because I might end up in that corner again.

My locker was on the second floor, middle of the hall, number two-three-four. I found it with no problem, and hey, it opened on the first try. Twisting at the waist, I pulled out a binder I was using for my classes in the afternoon and dropped it on the top shelf, knowing that I was going to be collecting massive textbooks today.

The locker beside mine slammed shut and my chin jerked up. A tall girl with tiny braids all over her head flashed a quick smile in my direction. “Hey.”