Inquest by DelSheree Gladden Page A

on prying the
lid off. The bagel, or buttered toast, I’m expecting isn’t there.
Lying in the blue plastic container are scrambled eggs, bacon, and
a sliver of cantaloupe. The eggs and bacon are still hot, the melon
protected from the heat by a couple of folded paper napkins. A
plastic fork is wedged between the edge of the container and the
melon. For several long seconds all I can do is gape at the food.
The last time anyone made me breakfast was five years ago. The
morning my dad died. My eyes still water every time I see blueberry
pancakes.
    My fingers are
actually shaking when I pick up my fork and take a bite. It’s
positively silly that I should be getting so worked up over eggs,
but I can’t help it. The homemade breakfast warms me completely. As
long as it takes me to finish relishing the treat, there are still
ten minutes before the first bell when I’m done. I close the dish
back up and set it in the back seat. Before I can settle into my
seat to wait, my gaze lands on Milo.
    His eyes dart
around under his eyelids as he sleeps. I wonder what he’s dreaming
about. I wonder if it’s me. Shaking my head, I push that thought
out of my mind completely. Any dream about me would quickly turn
into a nightmare. He’s probably dreaming about getting to sleep in.
Lying back in his seat, his hair has fallen away from his face. I
can actually see his face clearly without his hair there to get in
the way. Hidden behind his scraggly locks is a strong jaw line and
defined cheekbones. They go perfectly with his aquiline nose and
full, soft lips.
    My thoughts
freeze. His soft lips? Where on earth did that come from? And why
am I still staring at his lips? Are they really soft? I bite the
inside of my cheek, but it doesn’t really help. I struggle to get
my thoughts back in order. I don’t need this right now. I have an
entire planet’s worth of people to convince I’m not going to kill
them all. Milo doesn’t seem to be one of those people, but I’m not
totally sure that makes him any less dangerous. He would apparently
be pleased as punch to see me shatter the world. I have enough
problems already without letting my hormones cloud things for me.
Distractions are the last thing I need. I have to stay focused or
I’m going to end up very dead.
    Still, I can’t
help noticing there is a stray hair lying across his cheek, the tip
touching his upper lip. Telling myself that it probably tickles
being there, I reach up to gently brush it away. My finger touches
his skin and his lips briefly curl into a smile before settling
back into a sleepy frown. My own mouth turns up in delight despite
what I just told myself. Trailing my finger along his skin not only
rids him of the bothersome strand of hair, but elicits a few more
tiny smiles from his lips as well. I smother a laugh with my other
hand, tempted to repeat the motion a few more times.
    But when a car
pulls into the space next to us I suddenly remember my job and
glance at the clock. I flinch at the time, three minutes until the
first bell. My fingers drift down to Milo’s shoulder reluctantly. I
shake him gently, and say his name barely louder than a
whisper.
    His arms fly
out from his body as he springs up, one of them smacking me neatly
on the side of the face. I fall back into my seat with a groan.
“Ouch! Dang it, Milo, that hurt.”
    He blinks
several times before his eye widen. “Oh, crap. Did I hit you,
Libby? I’m sorry. My parents usually just yell at me from a
distance. It’s safer that way. I should have warned you, I
guess.”
    “You
think?”
    With my eyes
closed, and my senses a bit scrambled, I don’t notice he has come
closer to me until he presses his hand against the side of my face.
My breath stutters under his touch. His pressing lightly on my
cheek stings, but I’m only vaguely aware of it. I’m not really
capable of noticing anything except for how close he is to me until
he pulls his hand back, though not completely.
    “It’s all