Read Online Slow Dance in Purgatory by Amy Harmon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amy Harmon
Ads: Link
broken bridges made from assorted materials - everything from sticks, to rocks, to one that looked like it had been constructed with a concrete mold. It was so heavy that Maggie had to rock it a little just to build some momentum to get it to roll. Once she got it moving, she eased it down the hallway and headed for the dumbwaiter around the corner.
Honeyville High had been built before mandatory ramps and handicap accessible regulations had been instituted, so the old dumbwaiter served as a manual elevator for the janitorial staff and the occasional wheel chair. It was a platform large enough to hold Maggie’s trashcan, but just barely. Grunting and shoving the overflowing bin onto the metal platform, Maggie stepped back and tried to pull the sliding door down to close the dumbwaiter, but the scraps piled on top protruded out too far. Maggie stepped onto the dumbwaiter and shoved and pushed, trying to reposition the heavy debris so the door could close.
Suddenly, a loud grating and grinding noise reverberated down the narrow shaft, and the little platform shook violently. Without warning, the crank jerked and the pulley released, sending the platform and its contents plunging toward the ground floor.
Maggie screamed and leaped for the opening, scrabbling to get a foot hold on the block wall of the shaft as her hands clawed for purchase on the ledge. Her legs bicycled, and her arm muscles shook as she clung to the landing above her. The ledge was a smooth, squared-off edge, and she couldn’t get a firm enough grip to hoist herself up. She couldn’t even call out. Every ounce of her strength was needed to just hold on. Even if he heard her, Gus would never make it in time. She was going to fall.
“Don’t be afraid, Margaret. I’m going to try to pull you up.” A man’s voice came from somewhere above her, and Maggie whimpered in relief.
She lifted her head expectantly, and a face appeared above her, leaning over the edge. Strong hands gripped her around each wrist and pulled her up, up, and over the ledge and onto the floor beside the gaping hole. He released her hands as soon as she was safe and then sank to his haunches beside her, elbows resting on his knees. Maggie laid in a quivering heap and stared at her rescuer.
He was young, but probably older than she, Maggie thought. His hair was a dark blonde, and it was swept back off his face, except for one lock that curled down onto his smooth forehead. His jaw was square, and his chin, which he rested on his clasped fists, had a deep groove at its center. His full mouth was unsmiling and his dark brow furrowed above eyes that looked light in color, though it was hard to tell in the shadowy alcove that housed the dumbwaiter. He wore jeans, a white tee shirt, and scuffed black boots that were scarcely two feet from her face. He stood and backed away from her, giving her space to sit up, which she did, though she didn’t dare stand; her trembling legs would never hold her.
“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.
“I think so,” Maggie replied, and felt her lower lip tremble. "I lost my glasses, though." It was the thought of her glasses that broke her composure. They were probably smashed at the bottom of the shaft, where she would have been if not for this stranger. Tears threatened to fall – the relief that she was safe was so sharp she could weep. She swallowed back the emotion that was rising in her chest and struggled to stand. His hands shot out to steady her and then fell when she successfully rose.
“Where did you come from? I mean… I didn’t know anyone was up here,” Maggie stuttered. “If you hadn’t come...I - I would have
Honeyville High had been built before mandatory ramps and handicap accessible regulations had been instituted, so the old dumbwaiter served as a manual elevator for the janitorial staff and the occasional wheel chair. It was a platform large enough to hold Maggie’s trashcan, but just barely. Grunting and shoving the overflowing bin onto the metal platform, Maggie stepped back and tried to pull the sliding door down to close the dumbwaiter, but the scraps piled on top protruded out too far. Maggie stepped onto the dumbwaiter and shoved and pushed, trying to reposition the heavy debris so the door could close.
Suddenly, a loud grating and grinding noise reverberated down the narrow shaft, and the little platform shook violently. Without warning, the crank jerked and the pulley released, sending the platform and its contents plunging toward the ground floor.
Maggie screamed and leaped for the opening, scrabbling to get a foot hold on the block wall of the shaft as her hands clawed for purchase on the ledge. Her legs bicycled, and her arm muscles shook as she clung to the landing above her. The ledge was a smooth, squared-off edge, and she couldn’t get a firm enough grip to hoist herself up. She couldn’t even call out. Every ounce of her strength was needed to just hold on. Even if he heard her, Gus would never make it in time. She was going to fall.
“Don’t be afraid, Margaret. I’m going to try to pull you up.” A man’s voice came from somewhere above her, and Maggie whimpered in relief.
She lifted her head expectantly, and a face appeared above her, leaning over the edge. Strong hands gripped her around each wrist and pulled her up, up, and over the ledge and onto the floor beside the gaping hole. He released her hands as soon as she was safe and then sank to his haunches beside her, elbows resting on his knees. Maggie laid in a quivering heap and stared at her rescuer.
He was young, but probably older than she, Maggie thought. His hair was a dark blonde, and it was swept back off his face, except for one lock that curled down onto his smooth forehead. His jaw was square, and his chin, which he rested on his clasped fists, had a deep groove at its center. His full mouth was unsmiling and his dark brow furrowed above eyes that looked light in color, though it was hard to tell in the shadowy alcove that housed the dumbwaiter. He wore jeans, a white tee shirt, and scuffed black boots that were scarcely two feet from her face. He stood and backed away from her, giving her space to sit up, which she did, though she didn’t dare stand; her trembling legs would never hold her.
“Are you all right?” he asked her softly.
“I think so,” Maggie replied, and felt her lower lip tremble. "I lost my glasses, though." It was the thought of her glasses that broke her composure. They were probably smashed at the bottom of the shaft, where she would have been if not for this stranger. Tears threatened to fall – the relief that she was safe was so sharp she could weep. She swallowed back the emotion that was rising in her chest and struggled to stand. His hands shot out to steady her and then fell when she successfully rose.
“Where did you come from? I mean… I didn’t know anyone was up here,” Maggie stuttered. “If you hadn’t come...I - I would have
Similar Books
