Read Online Spirit by Brigid Kemmerer - Free Book Online

darkening sky, attempting nothing more challenging than filling his lungs with air, until a park ranger came around and told him to leave.
    After writing him a citation for his dog being loose.
    Hunter shoved the citation in the glove box and started the ignition. His fingers felt like icicles, and his empty stomach was starting to protest this whole not eating thing.
    The headache was back, clawing at his temples.
    Hunter didn’t want to drive far, because he didn’t know how long he’d need to make his fuel last. He settled on the parking lot behind the twenty-four-hour Target on Ritchie Highway, parking in a row of other cars that probably belonged to employees. He blasted the heat as high as he could tolerate, until his breath fogged the windshield and even Casper was panting. Then he pulled an extra pair of sweatpants over his jeans and climbed into the backseat, cramming his legs into the small space and resting his head on the duffel bag.
    Casper crammed himself onto the bench seat, too, pressing his back against Hunter’s chest and his nose into the space under Hunter’s chin.
    He’d be covered in dog hair in the morning, but Hunter didn’t care. Casper would keep him warm.
    He checked his phone again. Nothing.
    His throat felt tight.
    He told himself to knock it off.
    He wished he knew how to fix this. All of it.
    His breath was catching. Casper lifted his head and licked Hunter’s cheek.
    There was no one here to see, but he’d know, and he wouldn’t let himself lose it. Not when he’d been the one to cause this.
    But his breath wouldn’t stop hitching, and he buried his face in the scruff of Casper’s neck.
    He missed his father so much.
    He thought of where he was right now, and how he’d gotten here, and knew exactly how disappointed his father would be.
    He’d fix it. Somehow. He’d fix this.
    His phone chimed, and Hunter swiped at his eyes. His heart flew with hope. Maybe his mother had reconsidered? Maybe she’d give him a chance to explain?
    But it wasn’t his mother’s number on the face of the phone.

    What do you stare at when you’re not in school?

    Kate.
    Hunter lifted his head. For an instant, he thought about turning the phone off and burying it in his pocket—but really, what else did he have to do?

    Obviously I stare at text messages from girls with theories.

    Her response was lightning quick.

    Slow night, huh?

    He smiled.

    Long night would be more accurate.

    A long pause, then:

    What’s with you and the girl from the caf?

    Hunter frowned. She meant Calla. He remembered the look on Kate’s face when she’d watched, standing there with her hand on Nick’s arm.

    Wasn’t it obvious?

    No. And don’t get all >:O at me.

    How did you know I was >:O?

    Please. Your text style screams >:O.

    Hunter smiled again, but only briefly.

    It’s complicated.

    I have a theory about complicated boys.

    He smiled. Before he could type anything else, another message appeared.

    BTW that was a pretty sweet spinning backfist you used on the guy who flipped your tray. Where did you learn to fight like that?

    His smile vanished altogether.
    Another sentence appeared before he could say anything.

    Though you’re out of practice. You were lucky that teacher stopped him. Your timing needs work.

    He stared at the phone, wondering if he should be impressed or insulted. Then he typed.

    This is me right now. :-O

    I prefer you like this: :-)

    He smiled. Another message from Kate appeared.

    Seriously. Where’d you learn to fight like that?

    Ninja school.
    Funny. Why are you having a long night?

    He paused, studying the phone. He didn’t know her at all. But somehow this was easier, sending text messages into the ether.

    Family stuff.

    Mom or dad?

    Grandfather and mom. My dad died at the beginning of the summer.

    After he hit SEND, he stared at the words. It wasn’t the first time he’d said them, but it was the first time he’d typed them into a text message, and now they