Read Online Hunted by Cheryl Rainfield - Free Book Online Page B

his strokes, in the way he glides through the water.
    But he’s swimming too fast.
    A few more laps like that and he’ll have tired himself out. He’s too good a swimmer not to know that. So why do it?
    Because he likes me. Because he’s trying to impress me.
    I glide forward, the water making me as buoyant as I feel.
    But whether or not Alex likes me doesn’t change a thing. It can’t.
    I push myself a little harder, but still slow and easy, the water cradling me.
    Alex passes me again, but I’m closer this time and I can feel him tiring. We do another lap almost in tandem.
    Then a whistle screeches, shattering my quiet. I look toward the sound.
    A large man in track pants and a gray T-shirt jabs his beefy finger at me, the whistle dangling around his neck.
    “You! What’s your name?”
    “Caitlyn, sir,” I say, treading water.
    “Caitlyn? Caitlyn, why the heck didn’t you try out for the team at the beginning of the year, when we could have used you? What are you trying to do, make me cry?”
    “I—”
    Alex quickly swims up beside me. “She’s new, coach.
    Just transferred in.”
    I look at him gratefully.
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    The coach puts his hands on his hips. “Fine. Look, Caitlyn—I can’t have you in my pool with the team, not when they’re training. But you can come by for the free swim afterward.”
    I nod, then swim to the side and haul myself out, Alex close behind me.
    The coach walks over, his flip-flops slapping against the wet tile. “You better try out for the team next year, young lady. Your school needs you.”
    “Yes, sir.” Water drips off me onto the tiles and I shiver.
    “Get yourself to the showers!” he says, and then turns to the others. “The rest of you—let’s see some laps!” He walks down the side of the pool, watching the swimmers, yelling instructions.
    “He’s a great coach,” Alex says. “He really cares.”
    “I can tell.”
    “You want to stay? We could go somewhere afterward.”
    “I can’t.” I grab my clothes and bag and head for the girls’ locker room.
    His hurt and bewilderment punch into me but I keep going. It has to be this way.
    e
    The motel owner is at the window again when I get back. She needs to get a life. Before I even put my hand on the door handle, she’s swinging the door open.
    “Terrorists! I just knew they’d turn on us one day.” Fear emanates from her, making it hard for me to breathe.
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    “I don’t think anyone’s going to come after you,” I say, trying to calm her down.
    The motel owner crosses her arms over her chest, scowling. “What—you don’t think I’m important enough for some Para-trash to notice me?”
    “No, no—I just meant—the media blows things up bigger than they are all the time. Maybe they’re not really terrorists.”
    There’s a silence. The woman looks at me sideways out of narrowed eyes. “You takin’ their side? You one of them, girl?”
    Sweat pricks my back. “Would I take their side if I were one of them? That would be pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?”
    “It sure would!” The woman laughs a hard, short laugh. Then she narrows her eyes again. “Unless you’re one clever Para. I’m gonna be keeping my eye on you.” She reaches for the cigarette pack in her pocket, then puts it back. “You want a beer?” she asks and I feel her loneliness like a pit in my abdomen.
    “A beer? My mom would freak.”
    “Or a soda? You can have one for free.” I just can’t deal with anything more. Not today. All I want to do is to crash—not watch every word I say. “Can I take you up on that another day? I’ve got so much homework I’m not sure I’ll even finish before bed.”
    “Sure,” the woman says abruptly. She takes a deep drag on her cigarette. “I’m gonna find out what you’re up to.”
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    I hope I didn’t make her more of an enemy than she already was.
    e
    Mom’s pacing back and forth, waiting for me, when I reach our motel room. “Did you see