Read Online Gypsy (The Cavy Files Book 1) by Trisha Leigh - Free Book Online Page B

the person causing my lungs to collapse from dread.
    Fail, Gypsy .
    “Are you okay?” A second voice, male and with a smooth, local drawl, mingles with the first.
    The dead kid is a boy.
    I jerk my hands into my chest, trying not to be obvious about it. Wishing with all my might I could take it back. Forget. Turn away without seeing the attached face. Of course there isn’t, and when my body remembers how to breathe again, I open my eyes.
    He’s tall, a few inches over six feet, with hair the color of sand and eyes that shift between gold and brown, like maple syrup in the sunlight. More than the intriguing shade, it’s the genuine kindness in them that stands out to me. My heart flutters, then seizes.
    Dead. He’s dead .
    “It’s okay, I’ll live.” I wince at my choice of words and busy myself with brushing imaginary dust off the skirt of my uniform.
    The clumsy girl stands as high as my shoulders, and her upturned nose and smattering of freckles combined with her chin-length white-blond hair reminds me of Tinkerbell. At least she seems to have a better attitude than the jealous, spiteful fairy.
    Her pale eyes fling more apologies my direction, but I hold up my hand. “Really. No big deal.”
    “Oh my gosh, thank you for being cool.” She grins, and it lights up her entire body. “I’m Maya.”
    “Norah.”
    “You’re new?”
    “How could you guess?”
    “Because the rest of us learned by seventh grade to avoid Maya when she’s double-fisting coffee and a cell phone.”
    Oh, good night nurse. The boy who’s going to die before he graduates from high school would have eyes that make my stomach attempt to fly. I imagine iron plates of armor clicking into place over my face, my skin, my heart, then flick a glance his direction. I snatch my cell phone from his palm. “Thanks.”
    “I’m Jude.” He sticks out his hand.
    Even though my aversion remains, even though I don’t want to confirm what I saw, there’s no point in keeping to my hands off rule. Not touching him now won’t change anything.
    “Norah,” I say again, laughing a little at the absurdity of repeating my name. Our hands touch, his skin soft and electric at the same time, like he scooted his feet across a shag carpet. The little hairs on my arms, at the back of my neck, stand up.
    I pull my hand away, fixing my smile and swinging back toward Maya. “You caught me, I’m new. And I’m supposed to be in the office but I have no idea where that is, so this is at least half my fault, stopping in the middle of the hall like that.”
    “I’ll walk you. It’s right on my way,” Jude offers.
    Maya rolls her eyes at me in a manner that suggests we’ve been interpreting one another’s nonverbal cues for more than two minutes. “If you don’t want to be alone with Jude, I understand. But if you don’t care, I’m going to let him take you because I’m supposed to meet with the yearbook sponsor…” She glances at her phone. “Five minutes ago.”
    “No, it’s fine. He’s fine.” Lord in heaven, did I just say that?
    Maya snorts, and the heat in my face promises she didn’t miss my unintentional comment.
    I grew up around boys, so snorts at double entendre aren’t exactly new to me, which only makes the fire in my cheeks all the more vexing. It’s surprising to learn that things can still embarrass me.
    “You know, it’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Jude jokes, his smile catching my attention.
    My lips return it without permission, even though my face is about to melt off.
    “Yes, it is,” Maya chirps. “It so is the first time he’s heard that. Norah, we’ll have lunch instead, okay?”
    I nod, but she doesn’t see me because she’s already halfway down the hall, waving over her shoulder.
    “Well, shall we?” Jude extends an arm, an invitation for me to loop mine through his elbow, and since he’s wearing a long-sleeved Oxford, I do it.
    Then I remember it doesn’t matter anyway and want to run