Read Online Deadly Little Games by Laurie Faria Stolarz - Free Book Online Page B

hadn’t already figured it out.
    “You didn’t sound so surprised that he called.”
    “I wasn’t surprised,” I admit, proceeding to tell him that I’d called Adam after the incident in pottery class. “I just wanted to make sure that he was okay. I was really worried.”
    “Well, I’m worried, too.” He looks away, making it hard to decipher whether he’s more angered or hurt.
    “Worried because of Adam?”
    “Because of a lot of things.”
    I cross the room to take his hand, hoping he can sense how open I’m being—how I no longer have anything to hide. “Come with me tomorrow when I meet with him. We’ll work as a team.”
    “I don’t know. I have a sneaking suspicion that Adam isn’t expecting anyone to tag along, especially me.”
    “Who cares what he expects? We’re talking about his life here.”
    “I know.”
    “Then what?”
    “I just need some time alone.” Still avoiding my gaze, he gives me a paltry peck on the cheek, and then heads out the door.

I T’S THREE A.M. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for the past four hours, but it obviously isn’t working. Finally, I give up and head down to my studio in the basement. I wire off a slab of clay and wedge it out against my worktable, concentrating on the clammy texture and the way its familiarity soothes me. My eyes closed, a series of images runs across my mind. I let out a breath, trying to see which image actually sticks. And then I start to sculpt.
    Using a rolling pin, I smooth the clay out until it’s completely flat. Then I grab an X-Acto knife and cut out a bunch of square tiles, about an inch in length on all sides. I arrange the tiles against my work board, still focused on the image inside my head.
    Pressed behind my eyes are squares that run both vertically and horizontally, intersecting one another to create a map of sorts. After a good hour or so, I have a whole slew of them. I place them against my board in a way that I feel makes sense.
    In the end, I have something that resembles a crossword puzzle, minus the letters. I sit back on my stool and study its shape—at the top right the tiles form a capital T ; in the bottom left, they make the shape of a capital L. There are numerous tiles positioned in the middle—a section of which almost looks like stairs—but I’m not quite sure I’ve placed everything right.
    I cover it all over with a tarp and then return to my room, my mind more relaxed despite the surge of new questions. Still, I’m hopeful I’ll fall asleep.
    Before homeroom at school the next day, Ben pulls up beside me in the parking lot on his motorcycle. He cuts his engine and removes his helmet. “Are you still meeting Adam today?” he asks.
    “Definitely,” I tell him. “And I’d definitely like your help. I mean, I know this is really hard for you—”
    “But you’re worth it.” He reaches out to touch the side of my face. The heat of his hand penetrates my whole body. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
    “Then be honest with me.” I take his hand and kiss his palm. “Unlike some people, I can’t read minds. And I know there’s a lot you’re not telling me.”
    Ben nods, but still he doesn’t come clean.
    “Did you change your mind about coming with me after school?” I continue.
    His dark gray eyes search my face, as if he were seriously considering the question. “I really think Adam will be less on guard if it’s just the two of you. You’ll be able to find out more. Plus, what am I supposed to do?” He smirks. “Ask him to hold my hand?”
    “No.” I smirk back. “But you could touch his keys or something.”
    “You can do this,” he insists. “And I’ll be here for you when you get back.” Ben steps off his bike and reaches out to take my books. As he does so, I notice some writing scrawled across the cover of one of his notebooks: the words WATCH YOUR BACK, in black capital letters.
    “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the message. There’s a twisting sensation