Read Online The Benders by Katie French - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katie French
Tags: Young Adult
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my flesh. I crumple into the dirt, tears filling my eyes. I won’t cry. I won’t.
Lash two is harder than the last. Lash three harder still. By lash four I’ve broken my promise. I sob like a baby.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clay
I wake up with a crick in my neck bigger’n a barn and my mouth as dry as dust. For a minute the jostling and bumpin’ makes me think I’m in the truck with Riley. But then memory of last night smacks me upright. My eyes light on my cuffed wrists in my lap, then on my captor.
Nessa sits in the driver seat of the Jeep, her orange hair flutterin’ out of its clip. Her eyes locked on the road, she doesn’t notice I’m awake. I don’t move a muscle. I want to take it all in before she can paint her bullshit all over it.
It’s dawn, so it means we’ve been driving for hours, about six if my calculations is right. Six hours in what direction? Goddamn myself for fallin’ asleep. Felt a needle prick at the back of my neck just before we took off, and then it was goodnight Charlie. But Nessa don’t look tired. Maybe a bit red-rimmed ’round the eyes, but she’s got enough hate to keep her truckin’ for miles.
Her head snaps my way as she senses I’m conscious.
“Where you takin’ me?” I ask, my voice gone gravely.
“You’re awfully demanding for someone in handcuffs,” she says with a wink in her voice. She looks over at me and smiles. “We’ll be home soon enough.”
“Home?” I ask, sittin’ up. The landscape is bare dirt, scrub, and busted-up buildings, just like every other highway and byway I been on. “Home’s back with Riley.”
At the mention of Riley’s name, Nessa’s smile falls. “That girl—”
“That girl best be fine the next time I see her.” My blood simmers. I slam my chest against the seatbelt. “Where’d you take her?”
“She’s out of the way,” Nessa says, her voice flat and her eyes on the road.
“You hurt her and I kill you.” I lock eyes with my mother. I don’t give a rat’s damn that she gave birth to me. She left me when I was days old and never came back. I would end her with my bare hands if it meant Riley could live.
“Clay”—she says, honeyin’ her voice—“I own you.”
As her words slink over me, my anger flares, but I keep my eyes on hers. “A snake charmer thinks he owns his rattler, too.”
She snorts, dismissin’ me. When she looks away, I mark every landscape and every noise. A slanted, sun-faded road sign reads Gibson Blvd SE . I’m not familiar with that road, nor any after it. I figured she’d ship us to Albuquerque and her precious hospital. But we woulda been to Albuquerque by now. The roads here are clotted with dead houses, all broken and sucking in sand like open mouths. Piles of brick and terracotta have fallen onto the two-lane road. This was a family-friendly suburb before the population took a dirt nap. I see rusted tricycles and faded plastic play structures tipped over in dry back yards. An old dog leash, frayed and dry, lies across a sand-covered sidewalk. When food got scarce, dogs were one of the first animals to go. I heard they was so tame you could call ’em over and slit their throats easy. Nasty stuff. I look away from the dog leash and try to stamp down the anger that’s buildin’ inside me. Anger’ll make you fool-headed.
The houses space out and then fall away and more scrub takes its place. The few Jeeps that was with us when she picked me up in town are gone. It’s just me and her on the open road. I like them odds.
“Where’s your entourage?” I ask, tuggin’ on my cuffs. “Aren’t you supposed to be forcin’ girls to pop out babies at the hospital?”
She purses her lips, lookin’ uncomfortable with my question. “Things there became…” She clears her throat. “Things became complicated at the hospital. Dr. Bashees…” She shakes her head and continues. “They just don’t understand what I’m trying to do. So they gave me some leave and time to do some
Lash two is harder than the last. Lash three harder still. By lash four I’ve broken my promise. I sob like a baby.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clay
I wake up with a crick in my neck bigger’n a barn and my mouth as dry as dust. For a minute the jostling and bumpin’ makes me think I’m in the truck with Riley. But then memory of last night smacks me upright. My eyes light on my cuffed wrists in my lap, then on my captor.
Nessa sits in the driver seat of the Jeep, her orange hair flutterin’ out of its clip. Her eyes locked on the road, she doesn’t notice I’m awake. I don’t move a muscle. I want to take it all in before she can paint her bullshit all over it.
It’s dawn, so it means we’ve been driving for hours, about six if my calculations is right. Six hours in what direction? Goddamn myself for fallin’ asleep. Felt a needle prick at the back of my neck just before we took off, and then it was goodnight Charlie. But Nessa don’t look tired. Maybe a bit red-rimmed ’round the eyes, but she’s got enough hate to keep her truckin’ for miles.
Her head snaps my way as she senses I’m conscious.
“Where you takin’ me?” I ask, my voice gone gravely.
“You’re awfully demanding for someone in handcuffs,” she says with a wink in her voice. She looks over at me and smiles. “We’ll be home soon enough.”
“Home?” I ask, sittin’ up. The landscape is bare dirt, scrub, and busted-up buildings, just like every other highway and byway I been on. “Home’s back with Riley.”
At the mention of Riley’s name, Nessa’s smile falls. “That girl—”
“That girl best be fine the next time I see her.” My blood simmers. I slam my chest against the seatbelt. “Where’d you take her?”
“She’s out of the way,” Nessa says, her voice flat and her eyes on the road.
“You hurt her and I kill you.” I lock eyes with my mother. I don’t give a rat’s damn that she gave birth to me. She left me when I was days old and never came back. I would end her with my bare hands if it meant Riley could live.
“Clay”—she says, honeyin’ her voice—“I own you.”
As her words slink over me, my anger flares, but I keep my eyes on hers. “A snake charmer thinks he owns his rattler, too.”
She snorts, dismissin’ me. When she looks away, I mark every landscape and every noise. A slanted, sun-faded road sign reads Gibson Blvd SE . I’m not familiar with that road, nor any after it. I figured she’d ship us to Albuquerque and her precious hospital. But we woulda been to Albuquerque by now. The roads here are clotted with dead houses, all broken and sucking in sand like open mouths. Piles of brick and terracotta have fallen onto the two-lane road. This was a family-friendly suburb before the population took a dirt nap. I see rusted tricycles and faded plastic play structures tipped over in dry back yards. An old dog leash, frayed and dry, lies across a sand-covered sidewalk. When food got scarce, dogs were one of the first animals to go. I heard they was so tame you could call ’em over and slit their throats easy. Nasty stuff. I look away from the dog leash and try to stamp down the anger that’s buildin’ inside me. Anger’ll make you fool-headed.
The houses space out and then fall away and more scrub takes its place. The few Jeeps that was with us when she picked me up in town are gone. It’s just me and her on the open road. I like them odds.
“Where’s your entourage?” I ask, tuggin’ on my cuffs. “Aren’t you supposed to be forcin’ girls to pop out babies at the hospital?”
She purses her lips, lookin’ uncomfortable with my question. “Things there became…” She clears her throat. “Things became complicated at the hospital. Dr. Bashees…” She shakes her head and continues. “They just don’t understand what I’m trying to do. So they gave me some leave and time to do some
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