Read Online Forever by Maggie Stiefvater - Free Book Online Page A

me.
    â€œI’m coming,” he said. “Ten minutes.”
    Eight minutes too late. My bones ached. “I would really” — I paused to clench my teeth against the shivering. This was the worst part — when it was really starting to hurt but I knew that it was going to get more painful later — “like to get some cocoa when I’m back. I miss chocolate.”
    Sam made a soft noise. He could tell, and it hurt me, more than the shift, that he could. He said, “I know it’s hard. Think of summer, Grace. Remember it will stop.”
    My eyes burned. I hunched my shoulders against the presence of Isabel.
    â€œI want it to stop now,” I whispered, and felt terrible for admitting it.
    Sam said, “You —”
    â€œGrace!” hissed Isabel, snatching the phone away from me. “You have to get out of here. My parents are home!”
    She snapped the phone shut just as I heard voices from the other room.
    â€œIsabel!” Tom Culpeper’s voice rang out, distantly. My body was stretching and ripping inside. I wanted to fold in on myself.
    Isabel propelled me toward a door; I stumbled into another room. She said, “Get in there. Be quiet! I’ll take care of it.”
    â€œIsabel,” I gasped, “I can’t —”
    The massive old lock at the other side of the hall cracked out like a shot, at the same moment that Isabel slammed the door shut in my face.

• ISABEL •
    For a single moment, I couldn’t figure out if my father had seen Grace. His normally tidy hair was all disheveled and his eyes were full of shock or surprise or something else unguarded. He’d opened the door with such force that it banged into the wall behind it and bounced back again. The moose rattled; I waited for it to fall over. I’d never considered what an awesome sight it would be, to see all these animals start to tip like dominoes. My father was still shaking even after the moose had stopped.
    I glowered at my father to cover my uneasiness. “Well, that was dramatic.” I was leaning against the door to the piano room. I hoped that Grace wouldn’t break anything in there.
    â€œThank God,” my father said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Why the hell didn’t you pick up your phone?”
    I looked at him incredulously. I quite frequently let my parents’ calls go through to voicemail. I called them back . Eventually. The fact that I’d let their calls beep through earlier today shouldn’t have given them an ulcer.
    Mom trailed into the room, her eyes bloodshot and her makeup a minor disaster. Considering that she normally made tears look like an accessory, I was impressed. I had thought this might be about the cop who’d stopped me, but I couldn’t imagine Mom losing it over that.
    I asked, suspiciously, “Why is Mom crying like that?”
    My mother’s voice was nearly a snarl. “Isabel, we gave you that cell phone for a reason!”
    I was doubly impressed. Good for her. She normally let my father get all the good lines.
    â€œDo you have it on your person?” my father asked.
    â€œJesus,” I replied. “My person has it in her purse.”
    My father gave my mother a glance. “I expect you to pick it up from now on,” he said. “Unless you are in class or missing a limb, I want that phone to be picked up and held to your ear when you see that it is us. Or you can say good-bye to it. A phone is a —”
    â€œPrivilege. Yeah, I know.” I heard faint noises from inside the piano room behind me; to cover up the sound I began digging through my bag. When it had stopped, I pulled out my phone to prove that I had it. It showed twelve missed calls from my parents. And none from Cole, which, after over a month of having at least one missed call from him at all times, felt weird. I frowned. “So what’s going on, anyway?”
    My father said, “Travis