Read Online Rush by Jonathan Friesen - Free Book Online

blames me for the whole thing.
    You could have got me out of bed!
    And the most insane:
    Your craziness finally rubbed off on him.
    Salome and I move our talks to the train depot at town’s edge.
    â€œHas he spoken to you yet?” Salome swings her legs, looks up from the empty boxcar.
    â€œNo. He mumbles a lot, but not to me. He emptied Scottie’s room—no sign of him left anywhere.”
    Salome leans back. “I, uh, I got a sign. He called me last night.”
    I leap off the depot roof and land on the platform. Ankles scream. I wince and hobble toward her.
    â€œHe asked how you were doing.” She stares straight ahead, her voice quiet.
    â€œWhy’d he call you?”
    Salome shrugs, hops out, and reaches for my hand. She pulls me onto the tracks. “Let’s head back.”
    â€œWhy’d he call you?”
    We each balance on a rail and head into town. Her hand reassures, but my mind is rough.
    She swings my arm and slips off the rail, steps back on.
    â€œYour little school visit the other day got people talking again,” she says.
    â€œYou didn’t tell me why Scottie called—wait, talking ’bout what?”
    Her arm stops swinging. I start the pendulum again.
    â€œWhy did you show up at school?” she asks.
    â€œHard to explain.” I blink hard. “You know the jittery thing. Your voice calms it down, is all.” I peek toward her. “Right answer?”
    She nods slowly, and we walk in silence.
    â€œAre you there?” I ask.
    â€œI heard from the School of Journalism at Mid Cal. Orientation is June 2. I start June 10.”
    Lungs burn, and that ripping sensation works right down my middle, neck to gut.
    â€œAnd you’re still thinking four years?”
    â€œIt’s a four-year program. I can’t believe it’s coming true. It’s what I do well.” She squeezes my hand.
    It’s quiet for a long time.
    â€œIt’ll suck here.” I slow. “You talked about leaving, but it was just out there, ya know? Now it’s . . .”
    Salome tugs. My turn to fall off the rail. She joins me in the middle, and we face each other square. “Do you suddenly not want me to go?”
    â€œSpace. Too much of it between you and me.”
    We stand a foot apart. Her lips curl up on the left, like they always do before she smiles. But she does not smile. Her lips remain, and her eyes widen into a face I’ve not seen and can’t resist long, not from this close.
    My gaze travels her face, drops to her shoulder, and follows the curve of her elbow down to her waist. My fingertips tingle. They want to surround that waist, draw her in.
    But the world would stop spinning and I’d lose the best piece of me and she’d end up in pieces. I know that like I know my name.
    I exhale. “I mean, shouldn’t best friends stay together?”
    Her curl vanishes, and she steps back. “Nothing changes for you. If you had it your way, we’d be neighbors until we’re ninety-nine!”
    I puff out more air and stare at a beautiful girl who couldn’t be more wrong.
    â€œYou know, you’re right. I think it’s an awesome deal, and absolutely you should go.” I turn and walk forward. She doesn’t come with me.
    I peek back at her. Salome hangs her head.
    â€œCome on.” I reach out my hand. She stares at it and takes it.
    But she’s thinking. Still thinking hard. Probably a God comment fighting to get out, but I don’t want it, and she knows it.
    I breathe deep. Dad’s got it right. Suckin’ air is all I’m doing. No diploma. No nothing. Salome’s got a chance. She swings my arm. Even when sad, her face shines light and free. She’s breathing in a different kind of oxygen.
    Salome stops and steps across the rails. “Scottie’s with your mom.”
    Whoosh . Brain cloud gone. Completely. I blink, tingle, blink again.
    â€œWhen he left, he said he