Read Online Blood Entwines by Caroline Healy - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Caroline Healy
Ads: Link
lie. It was all lies. You gave up on him! You gave up on the truth.â
Rosemaryâs shoulder sagged. âI donât want to fight, Kara. Iâm tired.â
âYa, well Iâm pissed off!â
âKara!â
âWe could have found out what really happened. We could have got an answer, if only you hadnât given up. The truth would have made things better.â Her voice cracked.
âNothing can make things better. Patrick is dead. And heâs not coming back.â
âYou think I donât know that?â said Kara, slumping against the countertop, the energy of her anger trickling away, leaving her empty.
A feeling of helplessness settled around her. There was nothing she could do. No appeal process, no reassessment. The verdict was final. She was alone in her belief and it was a cold, barren place to be.
Chapter Eleven
The bathroom mirror fogged with condensation. Kara wiped it with the edge of her towel. She had barely slept all night. There were so many things to think about, her elephant hearing and Superman vision for one. She boxed that away for contemplation later. She was good at that, compartmentalising things, like her grief, the pain of her recovery, weird medical side effects. It was kind of a skill, a high level of concentration.
The argument between her and Rosemary had rotated round and round in her head, keeping sleep at bay till the early hours of the morning.
Then there was the business with the announcement at assembly. Rosemary had given Ashleigh a note to deliver to the principal, a message detailing Karaâs recovery, asking for school work, talking about repeats and exam scheduling. Somewhere along the way the note seemed to morph into a request for solitude, for people to leave Kara alone.
Ashleigh Jameson forged her fatherâs signature on a regular basis, had no compunction about falsifying letters both to and from the school. Could she have substituted the note? Changed the content?
It would explain why Ben hadnât come to visit, why the rest of her friends had given her a wide berth.
âThat little . . .â Kara hacked at her hair with the scissors, dropping the wet mess into the sink. She leaned forward eyeing herself in the mirror. She needed to calm down or sheâd end up giving herself a buzz cut. That was definitely not the look she was going for.
Earlier that morning, when she could no longer stand the annoying chirping of the birds, Kara had set to work on her uniform, tailoring it to her specifications. She had taken in her school skirt so it sat correctly on her slim hips. Sheâd thought about taking the length up but decided against it. She knew she would be drawing enough attention to herself with her scar and her history, so why tempt fate. Her school jumper had gone in a boil wash. It now fitted her properly. She had sewn two dark felt patches on to the elbows of her blazer and ornate silver clasps along the wrists for decoration, giving it a gothic feel.
Her hair she had agonised over. Tentatively sheâd snipped a few strands, then a few more, all the while envisaging Ashleigh and her long blonde tresses. At least Karaâs hair was somewhat even now, flicked out slightly at the collar of her shirt. Sheâd cut a wide, side-sweeping fringe.
âNot bad,â she said to her reflection in the mirror.
She had thought about trying to hide the scar on her temple and tried several different ways but, in the end, she had swept her hair back from it. This was the way she looked now; there was no point in trying to hide it.
She concluded that she had done a relatively decent job. She looked . . . Well, she had to admit that she looked individual, a little bit punk with a touch of funky thrown in for good measure.
Rosemary insisted on driving again. They didnât speak on the journey. With relief, Kara got out of the car a distance from the main gates. She didnât bother to say thank you.
It
Rosemaryâs shoulder sagged. âI donât want to fight, Kara. Iâm tired.â
âYa, well Iâm pissed off!â
âKara!â
âWe could have found out what really happened. We could have got an answer, if only you hadnât given up. The truth would have made things better.â Her voice cracked.
âNothing can make things better. Patrick is dead. And heâs not coming back.â
âYou think I donât know that?â said Kara, slumping against the countertop, the energy of her anger trickling away, leaving her empty.
A feeling of helplessness settled around her. There was nothing she could do. No appeal process, no reassessment. The verdict was final. She was alone in her belief and it was a cold, barren place to be.
Chapter Eleven
The bathroom mirror fogged with condensation. Kara wiped it with the edge of her towel. She had barely slept all night. There were so many things to think about, her elephant hearing and Superman vision for one. She boxed that away for contemplation later. She was good at that, compartmentalising things, like her grief, the pain of her recovery, weird medical side effects. It was kind of a skill, a high level of concentration.
The argument between her and Rosemary had rotated round and round in her head, keeping sleep at bay till the early hours of the morning.
Then there was the business with the announcement at assembly. Rosemary had given Ashleigh a note to deliver to the principal, a message detailing Karaâs recovery, asking for school work, talking about repeats and exam scheduling. Somewhere along the way the note seemed to morph into a request for solitude, for people to leave Kara alone.
Ashleigh Jameson forged her fatherâs signature on a regular basis, had no compunction about falsifying letters both to and from the school. Could she have substituted the note? Changed the content?
It would explain why Ben hadnât come to visit, why the rest of her friends had given her a wide berth.
âThat little . . .â Kara hacked at her hair with the scissors, dropping the wet mess into the sink. She leaned forward eyeing herself in the mirror. She needed to calm down or sheâd end up giving herself a buzz cut. That was definitely not the look she was going for.
Earlier that morning, when she could no longer stand the annoying chirping of the birds, Kara had set to work on her uniform, tailoring it to her specifications. She had taken in her school skirt so it sat correctly on her slim hips. Sheâd thought about taking the length up but decided against it. She knew she would be drawing enough attention to herself with her scar and her history, so why tempt fate. Her school jumper had gone in a boil wash. It now fitted her properly. She had sewn two dark felt patches on to the elbows of her blazer and ornate silver clasps along the wrists for decoration, giving it a gothic feel.
Her hair she had agonised over. Tentatively sheâd snipped a few strands, then a few more, all the while envisaging Ashleigh and her long blonde tresses. At least Karaâs hair was somewhat even now, flicked out slightly at the collar of her shirt. Sheâd cut a wide, side-sweeping fringe.
âNot bad,â she said to her reflection in the mirror.
She had thought about trying to hide the scar on her temple and tried several different ways but, in the end, she had swept her hair back from it. This was the way she looked now; there was no point in trying to hide it.
She concluded that she had done a relatively decent job. She looked . . . Well, she had to admit that she looked individual, a little bit punk with a touch of funky thrown in for good measure.
Rosemary insisted on driving again. They didnât speak on the journey. With relief, Kara got out of the car a distance from the main gates. She didnât bother to say thank you.
It
Similar Books
