Read Online After Obsession by Carrie Jones, Steven E. Wedel - Free Book Online Page A

cell number, in case you’re interested,” she adds. “And the phone gets reception upstairs, if you want some privacy.”
    I think about staying downstairs just to prove there’s nothing going on, but I can’t. I take the stairs two at a time and Aimee answers when I’m about halfway up.
    “Hey, Aimee. It’s Alan,” I say. “Alan Parson. The new guy at school.”
    “I know who you are, Alan.” It sounds like she’s smiling. Is she smiling? I hope she’s smiling. I make it to the top of the stairs and into my room.
    “I heard you called looking for me.”
    “I did.”
    “What’s up?”
    “I was just checking to make sure you were okay. We were talking on the way home. I can’t believe you outran Blake.”
    She really did call to talk about her boyfriend? Crap! Does she want me to let him beat me? I keep my voice as neutral as I can. “Well, I guess. He’s good. I just got the jump on him there the last hundred yards or so.”
    “He was so furious. He drove home at like ninety miles per hour. He’s super competitive, you know. Nobody’s bested him since middle school.”
    “Oh.”
    “Competition is good for him, but he … he took it hard or something. He wasn’t himself,” she says, and then there’s a silence, like maybe the words have more meaning than cross-country. No, that’s stupid. I’m putting connotations to her words. Connotations. That’s one of those words we had to learn in English class.
    “Competition is good for any athlete,” I say, because it feels like I have to say something. There’s another long pause that feels really awkward. “So, you okay? No more woozy spells like at lunch?”
    “No, I’m fine. Sorry. I hope I didn’t freak you out. It was just so weird. I’m good, really. Thanks for helping me.”
    “That’s cool. I was worried about you for a second there.”
    She pauses. “Um. That’s really nice of you, but I’m okay. I’m so sorry I made you worry.”
    “Yeah. Well …” There has to be something to say. Why’d she really call? I grope just to keep her on the line. “How about biology? Is Swanson always so boring?”
    She laughs a little, but it sounds like it’s just a polite laugh. “Mr. Monotone,” she says. “There’s no inflection to his voice, unless you can make him mad. Then he’s like a volcano. His eyes get all red. If he’s just minor-league mad, he’ll yell at the class. If he’s super-insane mad he storms out of the room and slams the door, then comes back for a while and sends somebody to the office for sniffing or slouching or whatever. He’s not bad, though. Kind of funny sometimes. They say he smokes pot during his planning period to stay mellow.”
    Long silence.
    I break it. “So, did you call to tell me Blake’s mad at me?”
    “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. He’s not mad at you, specifically, you know, as an individual. He’s just mad that somebody beat him.” She hesitates. “But no, that’s not why I called.”
    “Okay.”
    She pauses again. “Okay. Um … Well, basically, I saw your painting in Mr. Burnham’s class.”
    Holy crap! I forgot about that. I can feel the blood rushing to the surface of my face. “You did?”
    “Yeah.”
    Did she recognize herself ? Stupid question. Of course she did. She wouldn’t be calling if she hadn’t.
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “I was thinking about … something else and just painting. You know, just letting my hands work, and then Burnham told me I’d missed the bell. I didn’t even realize I was painting that. Well, you know, that I was painting you .”
    “You didn’t know you were painting me?” She sounds like she doesn’t believe it.
    “No.”
    “So, you’re saying you subconsciously painted me screaming while ghosts are swirling around behind me and a cougar is watching it all?”
    “A cougar?” Could she really have recognized Onawa’s eyes? That would be too freaky.
    “It wasn’t a cougar? Those weren’t cougar eyes?”
    “Yeah,”