I like him, does it?â
âWhat? No, of course not.â But her suggestion made me blush.
âI mean, heâs your brother. Itâs not like you could date him.â
I fought the urge to point out, again, that he was only my stepbrother.
âPlus, heâs not really your type,â Nicole added.
âWhat do you mean?â I asked.
Nicoleâs eyes widened and her mouth made a tiny Life Savers O. I had a feeling I knew exactly what she meant. He was out of my league.
âOh, you knowâI picture you liking the typical bad boy. A tattooed guy who wears a leather jacket and plays in a band.â Her hands waved around as if she was trying to distract me from what she was trying hard not to say, which was that I was too low rent for someone like Nathaniel. âHey, before we practice, do you think you could show me the attic, where they locked up the crazy Mrs. Wickham way back when?â
I was getting a crystal-clear idea of why Nicole wanted to be my friend. It had less to do with her desire to be all Mother Teresa to the new kid and way more with seeing me as her all-access pass to Morrigan ⦠and Nathaniel.
Chapter 16
I was on a boat. The varnish on the wooden deck was hot from the sun; I could feel the heat through the soles of my feet. The air rushed by, smelling of salt and freshly washed cotton, but it was cold. I looked up. There was a green-and-white-striped sail pushing the boat forward as we cut a line through the white-tipped waves. I could see seagulls racing alongside, swooping up and down. There was a picnic set up on the deck of the boat. Deviled eggs, turkey sandwiches, a bunch of green grapes, and a pan of brownies cut into perfect squares. There was a single brownie resting on a napkin with a half-moon bite taken out of it.
It should have been an ideal scene. They put images like this on postcards. But instead of feeling relaxed, I felt panicked. My heart was racing and I couldnât get a breath.Something was wrong. Very wrong. Then I placed it. There was no sound. Absolutely none. No snap of the sail in the wind or creak from the ropes in the metal cleats. The seagulls werenât making their barking laugh. I opened my mouth and screamed until my throat burned.
Not a sound.
She didnât say anything and she didnât touch me. I knew she was there, because I sensed her. I turned around slowly. She was standing at the back of the boat. Her long hair was blowing in the wind. She held out her arms as if she expected me to run into her embrace. She was bundled up with thick socks and a jacket. We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like forever. I said her name, Evelyn, but the sound never left my mouth. I took a step closer to her and she fell back, stiff as a board, off the boat. I raced to the edge and looked over. She was slowly sinking, her arms and legs out. Her hair was mixing with the strings of seaweed. She looked straight into my eyes. It seemed to me that she didnât look scared or panicked, but rather that she was somehow worried for me. She looked concerned and sad. I reached for her, but it was too far, and as the water soaked her clothes she began sinking faster. Then she was gone. Bubbles rose to the surface while I watched, helpless to do anything.
Suddenly her hands shot out of the water and grabbed me by the wrists. I tumbled into the ice-cold ocean. I opened my mouth and the water rushed in.
I woke up, barely able to choke off the scream that was about to rise from my throat. I sat straight up in bed. My T-shirt was stuck to me with sweat. I wanted to turn on the light, but I was terrified that if I pulled my hands out from under the covers, Evelynâs clammy hand would grab me. Or I could turn on the light and she would be standing by the window again. I took quick, shallow breaths, trying to pull my shit together. I never used to have nightmares. Or if I did they were the typical being naked while taking an
âWhat? No, of course not.â But her suggestion made me blush.
âI mean, heâs your brother. Itâs not like you could date him.â
I fought the urge to point out, again, that he was only my stepbrother.
âPlus, heâs not really your type,â Nicole added.
âWhat do you mean?â I asked.
Nicoleâs eyes widened and her mouth made a tiny Life Savers O. I had a feeling I knew exactly what she meant. He was out of my league.
âOh, you knowâI picture you liking the typical bad boy. A tattooed guy who wears a leather jacket and plays in a band.â Her hands waved around as if she was trying to distract me from what she was trying hard not to say, which was that I was too low rent for someone like Nathaniel. âHey, before we practice, do you think you could show me the attic, where they locked up the crazy Mrs. Wickham way back when?â
I was getting a crystal-clear idea of why Nicole wanted to be my friend. It had less to do with her desire to be all Mother Teresa to the new kid and way more with seeing me as her all-access pass to Morrigan ⦠and Nathaniel.
Chapter 16
I was on a boat. The varnish on the wooden deck was hot from the sun; I could feel the heat through the soles of my feet. The air rushed by, smelling of salt and freshly washed cotton, but it was cold. I looked up. There was a green-and-white-striped sail pushing the boat forward as we cut a line through the white-tipped waves. I could see seagulls racing alongside, swooping up and down. There was a picnic set up on the deck of the boat. Deviled eggs, turkey sandwiches, a bunch of green grapes, and a pan of brownies cut into perfect squares. There was a single brownie resting on a napkin with a half-moon bite taken out of it.
It should have been an ideal scene. They put images like this on postcards. But instead of feeling relaxed, I felt panicked. My heart was racing and I couldnât get a breath.Something was wrong. Very wrong. Then I placed it. There was no sound. Absolutely none. No snap of the sail in the wind or creak from the ropes in the metal cleats. The seagulls werenât making their barking laugh. I opened my mouth and screamed until my throat burned.
Not a sound.
She didnât say anything and she didnât touch me. I knew she was there, because I sensed her. I turned around slowly. She was standing at the back of the boat. Her long hair was blowing in the wind. She held out her arms as if she expected me to run into her embrace. She was bundled up with thick socks and a jacket. We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like forever. I said her name, Evelyn, but the sound never left my mouth. I took a step closer to her and she fell back, stiff as a board, off the boat. I raced to the edge and looked over. She was slowly sinking, her arms and legs out. Her hair was mixing with the strings of seaweed. She looked straight into my eyes. It seemed to me that she didnât look scared or panicked, but rather that she was somehow worried for me. She looked concerned and sad. I reached for her, but it was too far, and as the water soaked her clothes she began sinking faster. Then she was gone. Bubbles rose to the surface while I watched, helpless to do anything.
Suddenly her hands shot out of the water and grabbed me by the wrists. I tumbled into the ice-cold ocean. I opened my mouth and the water rushed in.
I woke up, barely able to choke off the scream that was about to rise from my throat. I sat straight up in bed. My T-shirt was stuck to me with sweat. I wanted to turn on the light, but I was terrified that if I pulled my hands out from under the covers, Evelynâs clammy hand would grab me. Or I could turn on the light and she would be standing by the window again. I took quick, shallow breaths, trying to pull my shit together. I never used to have nightmares. Or if I did they were the typical being naked while taking an
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