Read Online Connection (Le Garde) by Emily Ann Ward - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emily Ann Ward
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me!”
Chairs scraped against the ground as students tried to get to their feet. I felt Anna rush past me, and her emotions slowly faded. I left my sax on my chair and went after her. Her presence was like a light in the darkness, and I sought her out. We passed people I couldn’t recognize in the dark as I called Anna’s name.
“ Just leave me alone!” she called back. She sounded farther than I thought. Her emotions of panic and fear were stronger, like she could be standing next to me.
“ Anna, where are you going?” I nearly stumbled down a staircase when we hit the first step. I grabbed onto the railing at the last moment. “Maybe we can fix this.”
I ran into something solid, and Anna cried out and grabbed my arm. That same rush of energy made my arm tingle, and the light above us flashed on, then shattered. Anna let go of me again as the glass fell on us. She rushed down the steps, and I followed, glass crunching under my feet and falling from my hair and shoulders.
We stepped into the hallway between the back of the auditorium and the front, and the only light was from a few high windows along the left side from the setting sun outside. I could just see her outline.
“ Anna, you felt that, right? Maybe we can fix it.”
She turned around, and I nearly ran into her again, but she put her hand on my chest to keep me at a distance. “Don’t come any closer.”
“ Don’t you want to try—”
“ Just be quiet for a minute.” She moved her hand off my chest. She took a deep breath, and her emotions raced over me: panic, fear, anger, curiosity, sadness. “I don’t want to ruin anything.”
She was talking about more than just the lights.
“ We’re not going to ruin anything.”
“ You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is. Neither of us do.” Her breath came out in small pants, and I wanted to touch her, comfort her, hold her. “Will you stop that?” Her voice came out shrill. “I can’t handle this, I just—I mean, a year ago, you hated me—”
“ I never hated you,” I said quickly.
A yell down the hallway made me jump. Someone pushed past us with their phone, a senior, and I turned back to Anna once they turned the corner.
“ Anna, we can do this. Let’s just join hands and. . .try to focus it.”
Anna hesitated before she said, “Okay. But if we make it worse. . .”
“ I guess we’ll have to never touch again.” I hoped it didn’t come to that. I had this recurring dream where we were in a rowboat out on the lake, and I had my hands over her eyes because I was going to give her a present. I never got to see what the present was; I woke up when I started kissing her neck. Just thinking about it made my face warm. I held my hands out. “Let’s just try it.”
Anna’s hands found mine, and there was a shock as our skin touched. Like at the library, the world came alive around us. Another surge of energy rushed through us, and it made my skin tingle. The lights above us flickered on and off like earlier, and down the hall, another one shattered.
Anna started to pull away, but I said, “Come on, we have to focus it.”
“ What?” Anna’s hands went still. “Focus. . .focus. . .”
I closed my eyes, and I felt the lights flaring, I felt where the flow was coming from—us, and we needed to relax. I took deep breaths, trying to soothe Anna, trying to tell her she could trust me, trying to tell her I was sorry about Jordan and the time we’d lost. Her mind slowed, reluctant to believe me but relaxing nonetheless, and the energy between us slowed, as well. Instead of the frenetic electrons surging through us, they eased out of us, searching out the coils and conductors in the lights around us.
I opened my eyes again, and the lights above us flickered. I looked up—they stayed on, so bright I had to squint my eyes. Anna dropped her hands, and the lights dimmed and steadied.
I gazed at her, my mouth hanging open. She had bits of
Chairs scraped against the ground as students tried to get to their feet. I felt Anna rush past me, and her emotions slowly faded. I left my sax on my chair and went after her. Her presence was like a light in the darkness, and I sought her out. We passed people I couldn’t recognize in the dark as I called Anna’s name.
“ Just leave me alone!” she called back. She sounded farther than I thought. Her emotions of panic and fear were stronger, like she could be standing next to me.
“ Anna, where are you going?” I nearly stumbled down a staircase when we hit the first step. I grabbed onto the railing at the last moment. “Maybe we can fix this.”
I ran into something solid, and Anna cried out and grabbed my arm. That same rush of energy made my arm tingle, and the light above us flashed on, then shattered. Anna let go of me again as the glass fell on us. She rushed down the steps, and I followed, glass crunching under my feet and falling from my hair and shoulders.
We stepped into the hallway between the back of the auditorium and the front, and the only light was from a few high windows along the left side from the setting sun outside. I could just see her outline.
“ Anna, you felt that, right? Maybe we can fix it.”
She turned around, and I nearly ran into her again, but she put her hand on my chest to keep me at a distance. “Don’t come any closer.”
“ Don’t you want to try—”
“ Just be quiet for a minute.” She moved her hand off my chest. She took a deep breath, and her emotions raced over me: panic, fear, anger, curiosity, sadness. “I don’t want to ruin anything.”
She was talking about more than just the lights.
“ We’re not going to ruin anything.”
“ You don’t know that. You don’t know what this is. Neither of us do.” Her breath came out in small pants, and I wanted to touch her, comfort her, hold her. “Will you stop that?” Her voice came out shrill. “I can’t handle this, I just—I mean, a year ago, you hated me—”
“ I never hated you,” I said quickly.
A yell down the hallway made me jump. Someone pushed past us with their phone, a senior, and I turned back to Anna once they turned the corner.
“ Anna, we can do this. Let’s just join hands and. . .try to focus it.”
Anna hesitated before she said, “Okay. But if we make it worse. . .”
“ I guess we’ll have to never touch again.” I hoped it didn’t come to that. I had this recurring dream where we were in a rowboat out on the lake, and I had my hands over her eyes because I was going to give her a present. I never got to see what the present was; I woke up when I started kissing her neck. Just thinking about it made my face warm. I held my hands out. “Let’s just try it.”
Anna’s hands found mine, and there was a shock as our skin touched. Like at the library, the world came alive around us. Another surge of energy rushed through us, and it made my skin tingle. The lights above us flickered on and off like earlier, and down the hall, another one shattered.
Anna started to pull away, but I said, “Come on, we have to focus it.”
“ What?” Anna’s hands went still. “Focus. . .focus. . .”
I closed my eyes, and I felt the lights flaring, I felt where the flow was coming from—us, and we needed to relax. I took deep breaths, trying to soothe Anna, trying to tell her she could trust me, trying to tell her I was sorry about Jordan and the time we’d lost. Her mind slowed, reluctant to believe me but relaxing nonetheless, and the energy between us slowed, as well. Instead of the frenetic electrons surging through us, they eased out of us, searching out the coils and conductors in the lights around us.
I opened my eyes again, and the lights above us flickered. I looked up—they stayed on, so bright I had to squint my eyes. Anna dropped her hands, and the lights dimmed and steadied.
I gazed at her, my mouth hanging open. She had bits of
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