Read Online ARC: Cracked by Eliza Crewe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Eliza Crewe
Tags: supernatural, Family secrets, ya fiction, soul eater, Medea, beware the crusaders, the Hunger, hidden past
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brains.
Fortunately, the boys spill information like I spill blood. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will have to merge our two hobbies; I just need to separate her from the rest of us.
They spend the rest of the time explaining the rather dull specifics of Emma’s background. She’s seventeen (though no one can remember her birthday), she has a brother and a cat (gross to both), yadda yadda, snore, who cares.
Finally the clock rolls around to 9.15 and it’s time to leave the dump and head to the school. Chi and Uri lead, while Gimpy brings up the rear. I think she wanted to take the lead – so far she hasn’t struck me as a real good follower – but her leg slows her significantly. So significantly that she drops behind, unnoticed by the boys. She’d choke before she’d ask us to slow down for her and pretty soon she’s out of sight.
Hehe .
We snake between trailers at a half-run, keeping bent below window height. The sun’s fully up now, but it’s still cold at this altitude and our breath comes out in little puffs. We cut left towards the opposite end of the valley from where we entered and straight ahead between the trailers I can now see the big building, which must be the school. I have to slow down to take it all in.
It’s a crumbling brick box four storeys high with sprawling two- and three-storey appendages that shoot off at odd angles. When the extensions were added no one consulted the style of the original building (if “big box” can be considered a style), and the brick doesn’t match. One wing looks as if it was poured from straight cement – or airlifted from the USSR, back when there was a USSR. Some wings look closed altogether, dressed with caution tape and boards over the lower windows. The rusting corpse of a swing set leans pathetically out front.
It’s a monster, created by the architect Frankenstein.
Project Enlightenment Charitable School , a large and largely rotten wooden sign proclaims.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’m staring, offended at the school’s ugliness, so I don’t notice the wire-mesh enclosure at my feet until I stumble into it. It rattles and clanks at contact – waking the sleeping monster within, a scrawny little ankle-biter with a stumpy snout and wiry grey hair. It goes bonkers, barking like mad and attacking the wire-mesh fence like it wants to rip me to shreds. The feeling is mutual, but this isn’t the time for that.
I look to where Chi and Uri stand twenty feet ahead of me, frozen in indecision, not wanting to run without me. The trailer’s front door bangs open. I’m still behind the trailer with the demented beast, but Uri and Chi are directly in front. They tense to run, but it’s too late.
“Don’t move, I’m armed,” a voice says from the front of the trailer.
Crap, we’re caught.
SIX
Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip.
“Malachi? Uriel? Is that you?” At least that’s what I think the man said. I can barely hear over the stupid barking of the drowned-rat dog.
From where I stand behind the trailer, I can see Chi and Uri, but not the trailer’s owner, who’s at his front door. Chi’s stance goes from bent and furtive to hands-behind-the-back angelic. A pleasant smile moves across his face and Uri tries to copy it, with less success. What little I can hear of the voice sounds old, so maybe his eyesight is bad enough that Uri looks convincing. It looks like they’re exchanging pleasantries, but even my superb hearing is no match for that damn dog.
With a quick look at Chi and Uri to ensure their attention is elsewhere, I snake out my arm and snap up the little dog. Before I can do anything, Chi shoots a glance in my direction and I’m forced to smile innocently and pat the obnoxious beast on the head. The beast repays my kindness by twisting and snarling and trying to rip my hand from my wrist. Once Chi’s attention turns back to the man, I grab the animal by its scruff and swing him around until his wet black nose
Fortunately, the boys spill information like I spill blood. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will have to merge our two hobbies; I just need to separate her from the rest of us.
They spend the rest of the time explaining the rather dull specifics of Emma’s background. She’s seventeen (though no one can remember her birthday), she has a brother and a cat (gross to both), yadda yadda, snore, who cares.
Finally the clock rolls around to 9.15 and it’s time to leave the dump and head to the school. Chi and Uri lead, while Gimpy brings up the rear. I think she wanted to take the lead – so far she hasn’t struck me as a real good follower – but her leg slows her significantly. So significantly that she drops behind, unnoticed by the boys. She’d choke before she’d ask us to slow down for her and pretty soon she’s out of sight.
Hehe .
We snake between trailers at a half-run, keeping bent below window height. The sun’s fully up now, but it’s still cold at this altitude and our breath comes out in little puffs. We cut left towards the opposite end of the valley from where we entered and straight ahead between the trailers I can now see the big building, which must be the school. I have to slow down to take it all in.
It’s a crumbling brick box four storeys high with sprawling two- and three-storey appendages that shoot off at odd angles. When the extensions were added no one consulted the style of the original building (if “big box” can be considered a style), and the brick doesn’t match. One wing looks as if it was poured from straight cement – or airlifted from the USSR, back when there was a USSR. Some wings look closed altogether, dressed with caution tape and boards over the lower windows. The rusting corpse of a swing set leans pathetically out front.
It’s a monster, created by the architect Frankenstein.
Project Enlightenment Charitable School , a large and largely rotten wooden sign proclaims.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
I’m staring, offended at the school’s ugliness, so I don’t notice the wire-mesh enclosure at my feet until I stumble into it. It rattles and clanks at contact – waking the sleeping monster within, a scrawny little ankle-biter with a stumpy snout and wiry grey hair. It goes bonkers, barking like mad and attacking the wire-mesh fence like it wants to rip me to shreds. The feeling is mutual, but this isn’t the time for that.
I look to where Chi and Uri stand twenty feet ahead of me, frozen in indecision, not wanting to run without me. The trailer’s front door bangs open. I’m still behind the trailer with the demented beast, but Uri and Chi are directly in front. They tense to run, but it’s too late.
“Don’t move, I’m armed,” a voice says from the front of the trailer.
Crap, we’re caught.
SIX
Yip, yip, yip, yip, yip.
“Malachi? Uriel? Is that you?” At least that’s what I think the man said. I can barely hear over the stupid barking of the drowned-rat dog.
From where I stand behind the trailer, I can see Chi and Uri, but not the trailer’s owner, who’s at his front door. Chi’s stance goes from bent and furtive to hands-behind-the-back angelic. A pleasant smile moves across his face and Uri tries to copy it, with less success. What little I can hear of the voice sounds old, so maybe his eyesight is bad enough that Uri looks convincing. It looks like they’re exchanging pleasantries, but even my superb hearing is no match for that damn dog.
With a quick look at Chi and Uri to ensure their attention is elsewhere, I snake out my arm and snap up the little dog. Before I can do anything, Chi shoots a glance in my direction and I’m forced to smile innocently and pat the obnoxious beast on the head. The beast repays my kindness by twisting and snarling and trying to rip my hand from my wrist. Once Chi’s attention turns back to the man, I grab the animal by its scruff and swing him around until his wet black nose
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