Read Online The Epidemic by Suzanne Young - Free Book Online Page A

extensions in the back aisle of the supply store, looking for the one closest to my color, all I can think about is Deacon. And how much I hate him because of how much I love him.
    And when I have to sniffle back my emotions, I brush aside thoughts of him, too. I grab the blond extensions and head to the makeup section. I end up spending another forty dollars in cash on makeup and brushes because Elizabeth Major’s face has subtle differences I’ll have to create. And although I can’t mimic her turned tooth, I can copy the way she compensates for it.
    I leave the store and head to the nearest gas station and ask to use the bathroom. Once inside the small, dingy space, I take out the license and prop it up on the backsplash of the sink. Iexamine the picture. Our eye color is more or less the same, so that’s a plus. I didn’t buy any contacts.
    I open the concealer and cover my freckles first. Once I’m a blank canvas, I begin to change the shape of my features with the stroke of a brush: widen my lips, play down my cheekbones.
    I finish the makeup and then take the extensions out of the bag and comb through them with my fingers. I reach under my hair and snap them in, immediately hating how they feel. At least the ones Marie uses are expensive—better quality. I comb the extensions out and change my hair part to match Elizabeth’s.
    When the transformation is complete, I look at my reflection. Despite the changes, I see a shadow of Quinlan McKee—the girl I used to be—and I grow nostalgic. It must be the hair.
    I wait a moment until the emotions fade. Elizabeth probably hasn’t noticed that her credit card is gone yet, so I chance it and use the phone to order a bus ticket, which I charge to her credit card. It works. Once that’s settled, I swipe the makeup off the counter into the backpack and then walk out into the morning light, popping up my hood.
    I’ll be on bus number eighty-four to Roseburg. I pull up the bar-coded pass on the phone and head toward the bus station, noticing a decent crowd and immediately feeling eased by it. The buses are already lined up, and I spot number eighty-four in the back.
    A car on the street slows and pulls to the curb a few yards in front of me, and when it’s apparent it’s stopped for me, my heart leaps into my throat and I stagger to a halt.
    They’ve found me.
    The driver’s-side door of the gray sedan opens, and I put my palm on my chest in relief when August climbs out. He smiles broadly, checking the street before closing the door and walking toward me. “Hey, you,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his corduroys.
    My momentary relief is quickly covered by my fear of last night. Did he actually drug me? And if so . . . why ? “August,” I say, trying to sound casual. “How did you . . . how’d you know it was me?”
    “You look different,” he responds. “But you still have the same shape, same eye color too.”
    “You’re very observant,” I tell him.
    He laughs. “You must be rubbing off on me.”
    “Must be.” My shoulders are tense, and I have to fight to keep my face from reflecting that. I’m growing more certain that I trusted him entirely too much. “You knew where to find me?” I ask, wondering how he’ll dodge the question.
    “Considering the fact you slipped out my second-story window,” he says with a laugh, “I imagined you were ready to leave town. Bus station was an easy choice. I’m surprised you’re still here, honestly.”
    “Me too,” I say, tightening my hand on my backpack. “And sorry about that. I, uh . . . I didn’t want to wake you guys. I decided to head home,” I lie.
    He laughs. “We wouldn’t have minded if you did wake us. No need to risk life and limb.”
    “Again, sorry for the scare,” I say. In the light of the morning I start to notice things about him that I didn’t see yesterday. The roots of August’s hair are lighter than the strands hitting his shoulder, as if his hair