Read Online The Half Life of Molly Pierce by Katrina Leno - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Katrina Leno
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my vision turns to fiery white and my ears rush with blood and I’m not in my car anymore.
I’m leaning against an enormous oak tree on the edge of the graveyard in town. It’s a seaside graveyard; I taste salt on my tongue. You get so used to it living in Manchester that sometimes you don’t even notice it. After a storm it is particularly strong.
So it’s stormed recently.
The skies are still gray.
I’m reading a book and I have a coat on. Jeans and sneakers.
I’m waiting for someone, and when he gets there I smile. It’s a real smile. He sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean my head against his arm.
“Took you long enough,” I say.
I said.
This is before, of course.
Before the accident and before the argument in the warehouse.
Before the whiskey bottle and the shattered glass.
This is the last thing I can’t remember.
I am here, leaning against this oak tree, leaning my head on Lyle’s arm.
I am always leaning on something.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
EIGHT.
T he next day at school I move through the hallways like they’re flooded. Like I’m swimming through them, coming up every so often for air and clawing my way through seaweed that would hold me down, choke me, suffocate me. My lungs burn with the effort of breathing. What I wouldn’t do for gills. At my locker I press my forehead into the door and let the metal cool me down. Erie and Luka keep their distance, treading just close enough so it can’t be said they’re avoiding me. I appreciate the tact. I also appreciate the distance.
After lunch my headache’s gotten so bad I skip class and visit the nurse. She’s notoriously stingy with the pain pills and I have to beg her for two ibuprofens. She gives them to me with a look of obvious distaste, but let her distaste me all she wants. I have the pills.
Then she does something I’m not expecting. She watches me take the pills, gets me the glass of water and everything, and when I’m done she puts a hand on the side of my face. Not checking for a temperature, exactly, maybe just checking for a pulse. For warmth. The giveaway signs of life.
“Are you all right, Molly?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
“Would you like to call someone?”
She lets me use the phone in her office and Alex answers with a mouth full of food. Lunchtime. I find myself unable to properly articulate my words and after a few seconds of grunts and heavy sighs, I manage a strained hello.
“Molly? Is that you?”
I hear him swallow and wait for me to answer him.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Is everything okay?”
In one year of steady meetings—three times a week for the first four months and now just on Wednesdays—I have never, ever called Alex. I’ve had his number memorized since that first week and I have dialed it on two separate occasions but I hung up before it was able to connect.
No.
Not everything is okay.
In fact, I can think of absolutely nothing that is deserving of the label “okay.”
I can’t answer him. I turn my back to the windows that line one wall of the nurse’s office and I stare blindly, seeing nothing.
Lyle and me sitting underneath an oak tree.
But I’ve never met Lyle before , my mind screams.
“Molly?”
“Alex,” I say, and his name catches in my throat.
“When can you get here?” he says.
I mumble something into the phone. I can’t remember what I mumble. I’m forgetting everything as soon as it happens. I say something to the nurse and she lets me leave, but I can’t remember what I say to her. I go to my locker and I get my coat and my keys and I have the vague idea that I shouldn’t be driving. I shouldn’t be driving, but Clancy won’t be sixteen for another few months and I can’t call my parents. What would I tell them?
I can’t ask Erie or Luka to skip classes.
Pull yourself
I’m leaning against an enormous oak tree on the edge of the graveyard in town. It’s a seaside graveyard; I taste salt on my tongue. You get so used to it living in Manchester that sometimes you don’t even notice it. After a storm it is particularly strong.
So it’s stormed recently.
The skies are still gray.
I’m reading a book and I have a coat on. Jeans and sneakers.
I’m waiting for someone, and when he gets there I smile. It’s a real smile. He sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean my head against his arm.
“Took you long enough,” I say.
I said.
This is before, of course.
Before the accident and before the argument in the warehouse.
Before the whiskey bottle and the shattered glass.
This is the last thing I can’t remember.
I am here, leaning against this oak tree, leaning my head on Lyle’s arm.
I am always leaning on something.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
EIGHT.
T he next day at school I move through the hallways like they’re flooded. Like I’m swimming through them, coming up every so often for air and clawing my way through seaweed that would hold me down, choke me, suffocate me. My lungs burn with the effort of breathing. What I wouldn’t do for gills. At my locker I press my forehead into the door and let the metal cool me down. Erie and Luka keep their distance, treading just close enough so it can’t be said they’re avoiding me. I appreciate the tact. I also appreciate the distance.
After lunch my headache’s gotten so bad I skip class and visit the nurse. She’s notoriously stingy with the pain pills and I have to beg her for two ibuprofens. She gives them to me with a look of obvious distaste, but let her distaste me all she wants. I have the pills.
Then she does something I’m not expecting. She watches me take the pills, gets me the glass of water and everything, and when I’m done she puts a hand on the side of my face. Not checking for a temperature, exactly, maybe just checking for a pulse. For warmth. The giveaway signs of life.
“Are you all right, Molly?” she asks.
“Fine,” I say. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
“Would you like to call someone?”
She lets me use the phone in her office and Alex answers with a mouth full of food. Lunchtime. I find myself unable to properly articulate my words and after a few seconds of grunts and heavy sighs, I manage a strained hello.
“Molly? Is that you?”
I hear him swallow and wait for me to answer him.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“Is everything okay?”
In one year of steady meetings—three times a week for the first four months and now just on Wednesdays—I have never, ever called Alex. I’ve had his number memorized since that first week and I have dialed it on two separate occasions but I hung up before it was able to connect.
No.
Not everything is okay.
In fact, I can think of absolutely nothing that is deserving of the label “okay.”
I can’t answer him. I turn my back to the windows that line one wall of the nurse’s office and I stare blindly, seeing nothing.
Lyle and me sitting underneath an oak tree.
But I’ve never met Lyle before , my mind screams.
“Molly?”
“Alex,” I say, and his name catches in my throat.
“When can you get here?” he says.
I mumble something into the phone. I can’t remember what I mumble. I’m forgetting everything as soon as it happens. I say something to the nurse and she lets me leave, but I can’t remember what I say to her. I go to my locker and I get my coat and my keys and I have the vague idea that I shouldn’t be driving. I shouldn’t be driving, but Clancy won’t be sixteen for another few months and I can’t call my parents. What would I tell them?
I can’t ask Erie or Luka to skip classes.
Pull yourself
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