Read Online Freaks Like Us by Susan Vaught - Free Book Online

doesn’t seem to like me, and I get the first glimmer of why when he adds, “It’s definitely not typical to have a JAG lawyer on the spot.”
    My gaze jumps to Captain Evans. JAG? That’s the Judge Advocate General staff—a lawyer? The colonel brought a lawyer with her?
    Without skipping a heartbeat, Agent Mercer asks, “Do you think you need a lawyer, Jason?”
    “Agent Mercer.” Captain Evans has a head-chewing smile, too. “He doesn’t understand things like this. Let’s just get someplace quiet, and you can ask him whatever you need, so long as it’s relevant to finding the girl.”
    She brought a lawyer. She knows. He knows. They all know. You’re so stupid. You’re such an idiot! Know, know, know your boat. You’re crazy. Please stop talking about boats.
    Everyone’s here now, the colonel and Dad and Captain Evans and Agent Mercer, and I’m wanting to say, You think I need representation? Why? And I’m wanting to say, I don’t need a lawyer , and I’m wanting to say, Whatever, I’ll do whatever, lawyer, no lawyer, whoever, whatever, if it’ll help find Sunshine .
    I glance from face to face. I try to breathe. I try to hear my own thoughts scattered between the shouts bouncing across my skull and through my ears and falling out my eyes. What I say is, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    That, at least, is the truth.

SIX HOURS
    Twenty-four hours. That’s not a long time. Two tens and a four. Simple math. And it’s already been six hours. Twenty-four minus six is eighteen.
    My gut seizes at the thought.
    Eighteen hours really isn’t a long time.
    This isn’t real.
    I’m in a television show or a movie or a book and this isn’t real and my best friend isn’t missing and I’m not sitting with the colonel and Dad on my left and a JAG lawyer on my right, across a bare wooden table from an FBI guy with Chief Smith’s notebook, frost eyes, a wicked crew cut—and something like a bad attitude, directed straight at me.
    “When was the last time you saw Sunshine Patton, Jason?”
    His voice sounds hard. Almost angry. What did I do to him? Is it because of the lawyer the colonel brought? Does he not like how I look? What?
    He knows you’re a freak. He knows you’re stupid. Freaky freak freak. Maybe he’s not mad. Maybe he is mad. Should he be mad?
    The cinder-block walls make the room feel smaller and stuffier, but the lights are bright and I can see every tight line of Agent Mercer’s not-so-nice face. The air still smells like pine cleanser and bleach and my eyes water a little bit only maybe it’s not exactly water.
    Crybaby. You’re such a weak little snot. You should hate yourself. Hate, hate, hate, hate. Hate is a terrible word. Nobody should hate anything.
    “I saw Sunshine when we got off the bus.” Third time I’ve told him. He keeps asking the same stuff in different ways. I have no idea why, and no idea why he looks madder when my answers don’t change. Maybe he doesn’t look mad, but his face is melting, going empty in the center, or maybe that’s just my brain. My eyes lie to me when I’m stressed.
    Where is Sunshine?
    Stressed is a good word for right now.
    “Jason,” Agent Mercer starts again with his melty face and his pissed-off eyes—
    “Freak. Everybody calls me that. You can.” The words fly out and saying that makes me feel better. It makes mefeel normal and it makes his face stop melting. Sunshine’s gone. How can anything be normal again? Maybe everybody’s face should melt.
    Agent Mercer’s thick eyebrows lift. “Freak,” he says, all surprised and slow. I can tell he doesn’t want to look away from me, but his eyes travel straight to the JAG lawyer. “You want me to call you Freak,” he says to me, but he’s really saying it to her.
    Why?
    Freak, freak, freak, that’s what you are, that’s what I am, spam, ram, ham, ham, Freakity-freak, spam ham. I could use some bacon.
    “We’d prefer you call him by his proper name,” the lawyer says. I can