Read Online Compliance by Maureen McGowan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maureen McGowan
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too.
I push back my chair to stand. Cal stays close and his hands glide over my torso as I turn to face him. It feels as ifthe air between our bodies is pulling me forward, but I resist the urge to bridge the short distance. Something holds me back. My work for the FA? My betrayal of Cal? Burn?
“Cal!” A voice comes from down the hall. “Your turn.”
He doesn’t react, so I slide from the space between him and the table. “You’re being paged.”
“Are you coming with me?”
I nod. “You’re right. I should spend more time with the others.”
He grins. “I’ll bet once you make some friends, Larsson will stop picking on you. The others won’t let him get away with it.”
As we walk down the hall to the rec room, our hands brush close to each other but never quite touch, and I can’t tell whether I’m disappointed or relieved. The noise gets louder as we approach, and when we enter the room, it’s deafening.
“Cal. Finally,” someone I can’t see shouts. Cal offers me a reassuring smile before moving to the center of the room to face a section of bare wall. Within moments, the display for the SIM fills the blank space, projecting from a small laser projector latched onto the ceiling.
The rest of the boys and Stacy are crowded around Cal and his opponent, whom I now recognize as Quentin. Those at the back are standing on chairs and benches, and Ansel gestures for me to join him on top of a crate.
Watching the others, I find it hard to believe that one of them might be a mole for the terrorists. I wish I could turn back time and watch everyone’s reactions on the roof whenthat bomb went off. At the time everyone seemed horrified. Then again, if the mole’s in our group, he’d be good at deception.
Regardless, I’m happy on the sidelines, with no pressure to interact, yet not alone. Cal was right. I’m glad I came.
“Will you have a go?” Ansel asks.
“Not a chance.”
“You should. It’s fun.” Ansel shifts to improve his view.
Cal takes a SIM controller, nods to Quentin, and the boys take their ready positions. As they press the thumb buttons on their controllers, two images appear on the wall.
I gasp. Cal’s avatar is human, huge, and wearing a long, flared coat.
It looks like Burn.
The Burn-like avatar sports chin-length dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and strong features. The game designer obviously based this game character on Burn’s image that was posted all over Haven after my alleged kidnapping. Only his eyes are different—a mixture of bright red and orange like they’re about to shoot fire. Maybe they will.
Quentin sees his avatar—a Shredder—and laughs, then slams his fist against his chest. Mirroring Quentin’s actions, the avatar’s fist hits its chest on the screen, and bits of skin and flesh fly off its torso. My nose curls up in response. Through the game speakers, Quentin’s laugh transforms into a roar that’s not nearly as gruesome as Shredders sound for real, but it reverberates through the room and hurts my ears.
Facing them, Stacy steps between the two boys. “Good luck.” She winks at Cal.
He smiles back and my skin crawls.
“And begin!” Stacy steps out of the way and the two boys turn to the screen to start their bout.
The spectators cheer, but instead of watching the projected fake gore and the action on-screen, I keep my eyes on Cal. My life is strange and complicated enough. I can’t watch Cal control an image that looks like Burn.
Cal ducks, legs flexing, then leaps and kicks. Based on the cheers and the way Quentin steps back, I assume that Cal’s avatar landed a hard blow somewhere on Quentin’s torso.
As they continue to fight, I watch Cal and imagine what it would be like if he knew the truth about me. Would he suddenly want to report me, to fight me, to kill me? Or would he understand and still love me? Maybe if he knew the truth, I could fully love him back, like he deserves.
He’s already proven his loyalty by not turning my
I push back my chair to stand. Cal stays close and his hands glide over my torso as I turn to face him. It feels as ifthe air between our bodies is pulling me forward, but I resist the urge to bridge the short distance. Something holds me back. My work for the FA? My betrayal of Cal? Burn?
“Cal!” A voice comes from down the hall. “Your turn.”
He doesn’t react, so I slide from the space between him and the table. “You’re being paged.”
“Are you coming with me?”
I nod. “You’re right. I should spend more time with the others.”
He grins. “I’ll bet once you make some friends, Larsson will stop picking on you. The others won’t let him get away with it.”
As we walk down the hall to the rec room, our hands brush close to each other but never quite touch, and I can’t tell whether I’m disappointed or relieved. The noise gets louder as we approach, and when we enter the room, it’s deafening.
“Cal. Finally,” someone I can’t see shouts. Cal offers me a reassuring smile before moving to the center of the room to face a section of bare wall. Within moments, the display for the SIM fills the blank space, projecting from a small laser projector latched onto the ceiling.
The rest of the boys and Stacy are crowded around Cal and his opponent, whom I now recognize as Quentin. Those at the back are standing on chairs and benches, and Ansel gestures for me to join him on top of a crate.
Watching the others, I find it hard to believe that one of them might be a mole for the terrorists. I wish I could turn back time and watch everyone’s reactions on the roof whenthat bomb went off. At the time everyone seemed horrified. Then again, if the mole’s in our group, he’d be good at deception.
Regardless, I’m happy on the sidelines, with no pressure to interact, yet not alone. Cal was right. I’m glad I came.
“Will you have a go?” Ansel asks.
“Not a chance.”
“You should. It’s fun.” Ansel shifts to improve his view.
Cal takes a SIM controller, nods to Quentin, and the boys take their ready positions. As they press the thumb buttons on their controllers, two images appear on the wall.
I gasp. Cal’s avatar is human, huge, and wearing a long, flared coat.
It looks like Burn.
The Burn-like avatar sports chin-length dark hair, heavy eyebrows, and strong features. The game designer obviously based this game character on Burn’s image that was posted all over Haven after my alleged kidnapping. Only his eyes are different—a mixture of bright red and orange like they’re about to shoot fire. Maybe they will.
Quentin sees his avatar—a Shredder—and laughs, then slams his fist against his chest. Mirroring Quentin’s actions, the avatar’s fist hits its chest on the screen, and bits of skin and flesh fly off its torso. My nose curls up in response. Through the game speakers, Quentin’s laugh transforms into a roar that’s not nearly as gruesome as Shredders sound for real, but it reverberates through the room and hurts my ears.
Facing them, Stacy steps between the two boys. “Good luck.” She winks at Cal.
He smiles back and my skin crawls.
“And begin!” Stacy steps out of the way and the two boys turn to the screen to start their bout.
The spectators cheer, but instead of watching the projected fake gore and the action on-screen, I keep my eyes on Cal. My life is strange and complicated enough. I can’t watch Cal control an image that looks like Burn.
Cal ducks, legs flexing, then leaps and kicks. Based on the cheers and the way Quentin steps back, I assume that Cal’s avatar landed a hard blow somewhere on Quentin’s torso.
As they continue to fight, I watch Cal and imagine what it would be like if he knew the truth about me. Would he suddenly want to report me, to fight me, to kill me? Or would he understand and still love me? Maybe if he knew the truth, I could fully love him back, like he deserves.
He’s already proven his loyalty by not turning my
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