Read Online Pawn (Nightmares Trilogy #1) by Sophie Davis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sophie Davis
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Jamieson took personally. But we still couldn’t be
near one another without her making some snippy remark. I usually
ignored her; there was no reason to poke the beast. Sometimes,
though, she made me so mad that I couldn’t help but take the bait.
Those encounters never ended well.
To Kannon, I replied simply: We
can’t.
To my surprise, he didn’t push the
issue. Initially, I was thankful he left me alone so easily; but by
bedtime I was more intrigued than ever, and it took a great deal of
willpower not to rescind my earlier refusal.
Chapter Five
Monday morning was cool for spring in
Maryland. The Bug’s heater took nearly the entire ten-minute drive
to Westwood High to warm the interior. Instead of dwelling on the
weekend, I made a mental list of all the things that I needed to
focus on for the upcoming week. While I had made progress on my
history paper, it was nowhere near finished. I had a calculus quiz
on Tuesday that I hadn’t started studying for yet. And I had
practice every day after school.
The mundane details of everyday life
were a welcome distraction from my bizarre weekend. The excitement
over the visit with my father hadn’t worn off, but I was trying not
to let it distract me from what needed to be taken care of in the
interim. Unfortunately, between that and my continued curiosity
over Kannon and the lake creature, nothing else seemed
important.
The school day was blissfully
uneventful. My new cell phone didn’t buzz once in my pocket. I
didn’t foresee any potentially deadly accidents. Devon was rude to
Mandy at lunch, Elizabeth flirted with the boys’ soccer coach
during study hall, and Coach Peters made me run suicides on the
hill because she thought I was too slow during practice. All was
right with the world.
The stress to write a
better-than-average paper for history made me go straight home
after practice and get to work. Mr. Randell had informed us that it
would count for one-third of our grade, and I couldn’t afford to
risk writing it poorly at the last minute. Throughout the evening,
my mother called my new cell phone once an hour to check
in.
The following forty-eight
hours sped by in a blur. The mild curiosity about the boy who’d
saved my life was now verging on obsession. I thought about him
constantly. Sometimes I’d daydream about him in a tuxedo with his
hair artfully mussed and a smile stretching his lips. The image was
so clear in my mind, even though the one time I had seen him in person he more
closely resembled a drowned rat than a GQ cover model. The thoughts
weren’t always pleasant, though; other times, I’d picture his face
on the lake creature. His bright green eyes were staring into mine,
instead of her black orbs. His strong hands were wrapped around my
throat, not her delicate pale ones. The thought made it feel like a
boulder was sitting on my chest, and each breath was shallower than
the previous. More than one of my teachers had called me out in
class to ask if I was okay.
Somehow, I managed to finish my
history paper and earn a B on my calculus quiz. Both Monday and
Tuesday nights, I awoke in my bed covered in sweat and panting,
with tears streaming down my face. Only three details from the
dreams remained once I was awake: fire, water, and
Kannon.
On Wednesday morning, I
woke up well before my alarm clock, my anxiety too powerful to let
me sleep any longer. Despite my early rising, my mother’s car was
gone from the garage when I made my way downstairs to scrounge up
some breakfast. She had, however, left me a note, saying that there
may, or may not, be some unexpired yogurt in the fridge.
When I opened the
state-of-the-art refrigerator to search for the yogurt, I found one
carton of Blueberry Yoplait that had expired two days prior. I
peeled back the top back and sniffed. Artificial fruit filled my
nostrils, and I dipped my pinkie in the purple cream and
tentatively touched it to my tongue. Tastes okay to me , I thought as I
searched for a
near one another without her making some snippy remark. I usually
ignored her; there was no reason to poke the beast. Sometimes,
though, she made me so mad that I couldn’t help but take the bait.
Those encounters never ended well.
To Kannon, I replied simply: We
can’t.
To my surprise, he didn’t push the
issue. Initially, I was thankful he left me alone so easily; but by
bedtime I was more intrigued than ever, and it took a great deal of
willpower not to rescind my earlier refusal.
Chapter Five
Monday morning was cool for spring in
Maryland. The Bug’s heater took nearly the entire ten-minute drive
to Westwood High to warm the interior. Instead of dwelling on the
weekend, I made a mental list of all the things that I needed to
focus on for the upcoming week. While I had made progress on my
history paper, it was nowhere near finished. I had a calculus quiz
on Tuesday that I hadn’t started studying for yet. And I had
practice every day after school.
The mundane details of everyday life
were a welcome distraction from my bizarre weekend. The excitement
over the visit with my father hadn’t worn off, but I was trying not
to let it distract me from what needed to be taken care of in the
interim. Unfortunately, between that and my continued curiosity
over Kannon and the lake creature, nothing else seemed
important.
The school day was blissfully
uneventful. My new cell phone didn’t buzz once in my pocket. I
didn’t foresee any potentially deadly accidents. Devon was rude to
Mandy at lunch, Elizabeth flirted with the boys’ soccer coach
during study hall, and Coach Peters made me run suicides on the
hill because she thought I was too slow during practice. All was
right with the world.
The stress to write a
better-than-average paper for history made me go straight home
after practice and get to work. Mr. Randell had informed us that it
would count for one-third of our grade, and I couldn’t afford to
risk writing it poorly at the last minute. Throughout the evening,
my mother called my new cell phone once an hour to check
in.
The following forty-eight
hours sped by in a blur. The mild curiosity about the boy who’d
saved my life was now verging on obsession. I thought about him
constantly. Sometimes I’d daydream about him in a tuxedo with his
hair artfully mussed and a smile stretching his lips. The image was
so clear in my mind, even though the one time I had seen him in person he more
closely resembled a drowned rat than a GQ cover model. The thoughts
weren’t always pleasant, though; other times, I’d picture his face
on the lake creature. His bright green eyes were staring into mine,
instead of her black orbs. His strong hands were wrapped around my
throat, not her delicate pale ones. The thought made it feel like a
boulder was sitting on my chest, and each breath was shallower than
the previous. More than one of my teachers had called me out in
class to ask if I was okay.
Somehow, I managed to finish my
history paper and earn a B on my calculus quiz. Both Monday and
Tuesday nights, I awoke in my bed covered in sweat and panting,
with tears streaming down my face. Only three details from the
dreams remained once I was awake: fire, water, and
Kannon.
On Wednesday morning, I
woke up well before my alarm clock, my anxiety too powerful to let
me sleep any longer. Despite my early rising, my mother’s car was
gone from the garage when I made my way downstairs to scrounge up
some breakfast. She had, however, left me a note, saying that there
may, or may not, be some unexpired yogurt in the fridge.
When I opened the
state-of-the-art refrigerator to search for the yogurt, I found one
carton of Blueberry Yoplait that had expired two days prior. I
peeled back the top back and sniffed. Artificial fruit filled my
nostrils, and I dipped my pinkie in the purple cream and
tentatively touched it to my tongue. Tastes okay to me , I thought as I
searched for a
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