Read Online Uncertainty by Abigail Boyd - Free Book Online
Authors: Abigail Boyd
Tags: supernatural, Young Adult
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corridors. It reminded me of Snow White's coffin.
In between the stacks, buttery sunshine filtered lazily through long windows. The library even provided little grocery baskets to take the load off your arms, but I thought I'd look a bit too dorky. Maybe in another twenty years.
I found the top two books on my list, My Antonia and House of the Seven Gables with the book jacket taped together. It felt good just to wander through the shelves, looking at all the worn titles and imagining who had read them before. Reaching the end of the fiction section, I came out to the back wall.
It had been turned into the fantasy category, complete with a painted mural of a red-winged dragon above the shelves. The spines of the books formed a diverse crayon box of colors, with swirling fonts and the tails of mythical beasts.
Of course, something else to remind me of Henry. I had hoped I'd left any reminders behind at Hawthorne. Fantasy novels were Henry's favorite. I'd often still seen him reading them at school, hiding them open on his lap beneath his desk.
Back when Henry was my math tutor, during one of our early session in the den, he pestered me playfully to read what he liked. I thought the whole dragon and wizard thing was a little out there, and I liked to tease him about it.
"If you just gave them a try, I know you'd like them," he'd said, ever-confident as always. It was part of why I loved being around him, because I fed off of his energy.
His feet were planted on the bottom rung of the coffee table, and he was reclining back with his head on the cushions. I could still see his expression in my recollection, his dark brown hair framing his eyes.
"That's your world, not mind," I said gently.
"It's not that different," he said. "And what would be so wrong about spending some time in my world?"
He accompanied his words with a wry grin, tiny dimples appearing between his smile lines. I'd have given anything for him to kiss me then. I pushed the thought out of my head, just like all the instant, embarrassing thoughts that would pop up when I was in his presence.
"Where do you get your books? Do you just buy out the store?"
"Library, mostly," he said, shrugging. "Here, let me write a good one down for you."
He took one of the note cards we were using for Geometry terms, and scribbled an author name and title in his slanted handwriting. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed together, lingering for just a moment. Both of us felt the stir of energy that passed between us.
"Get this one. Assassin's Apprentice. You'll like it, I swear." Tossing the pencil on the table, in almost rolled back off. He caught it easily.
"As long as you swear," I said, my breath catching.
Back in the present, I was suddenly very ready to leave. I didn't need to be thinking about him, yet he was still stubbornly stuck in my thoughts, like he'd infected my brain tissue.
Hands covered my eyes, making me gasp sharply as everything went dark.
"Guess who," a voice whispered in my ear. His voice. Henry.
His cologne swam into my nostrils, and I breathed him in. He was the only person I knew who smelled that amazing. I realized as I was feeling that way that I shouldn't be. Not about him. Not anymore.
Wrenching away from him, I backed into the fantasy bookshelf. He didn't try to hold me or protest. It was a small space; there wasn't a lot of room to put between us. He was wearing a button down shirt, the top two buttons undone, his hair disheveled.
He dropped his hands to his sides, as though they were useless. My heart rattled crazily in my ribcage, and with my fast breathing, I kept getting the scent of him.
"You were supposed to guess," he said.
"I knew it was you," I said, my voice shaky. "I always know when it's you."
We stared at each other across the cramped area. His eyes were still lifeless, dull like dirty water. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to shake him and ask him what the hell he had been thinking messing with me. I wanted him
In between the stacks, buttery sunshine filtered lazily through long windows. The library even provided little grocery baskets to take the load off your arms, but I thought I'd look a bit too dorky. Maybe in another twenty years.
I found the top two books on my list, My Antonia and House of the Seven Gables with the book jacket taped together. It felt good just to wander through the shelves, looking at all the worn titles and imagining who had read them before. Reaching the end of the fiction section, I came out to the back wall.
It had been turned into the fantasy category, complete with a painted mural of a red-winged dragon above the shelves. The spines of the books formed a diverse crayon box of colors, with swirling fonts and the tails of mythical beasts.
Of course, something else to remind me of Henry. I had hoped I'd left any reminders behind at Hawthorne. Fantasy novels were Henry's favorite. I'd often still seen him reading them at school, hiding them open on his lap beneath his desk.
Back when Henry was my math tutor, during one of our early session in the den, he pestered me playfully to read what he liked. I thought the whole dragon and wizard thing was a little out there, and I liked to tease him about it.
"If you just gave them a try, I know you'd like them," he'd said, ever-confident as always. It was part of why I loved being around him, because I fed off of his energy.
His feet were planted on the bottom rung of the coffee table, and he was reclining back with his head on the cushions. I could still see his expression in my recollection, his dark brown hair framing his eyes.
"That's your world, not mind," I said gently.
"It's not that different," he said. "And what would be so wrong about spending some time in my world?"
He accompanied his words with a wry grin, tiny dimples appearing between his smile lines. I'd have given anything for him to kiss me then. I pushed the thought out of my head, just like all the instant, embarrassing thoughts that would pop up when I was in his presence.
"Where do you get your books? Do you just buy out the store?"
"Library, mostly," he said, shrugging. "Here, let me write a good one down for you."
He took one of the note cards we were using for Geometry terms, and scribbled an author name and title in his slanted handwriting. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed together, lingering for just a moment. Both of us felt the stir of energy that passed between us.
"Get this one. Assassin's Apprentice. You'll like it, I swear." Tossing the pencil on the table, in almost rolled back off. He caught it easily.
"As long as you swear," I said, my breath catching.
Back in the present, I was suddenly very ready to leave. I didn't need to be thinking about him, yet he was still stubbornly stuck in my thoughts, like he'd infected my brain tissue.
Hands covered my eyes, making me gasp sharply as everything went dark.
"Guess who," a voice whispered in my ear. His voice. Henry.
His cologne swam into my nostrils, and I breathed him in. He was the only person I knew who smelled that amazing. I realized as I was feeling that way that I shouldn't be. Not about him. Not anymore.
Wrenching away from him, I backed into the fantasy bookshelf. He didn't try to hold me or protest. It was a small space; there wasn't a lot of room to put between us. He was wearing a button down shirt, the top two buttons undone, his hair disheveled.
He dropped his hands to his sides, as though they were useless. My heart rattled crazily in my ribcage, and with my fast breathing, I kept getting the scent of him.
"You were supposed to guess," he said.
"I knew it was you," I said, my voice shaky. "I always know when it's you."
We stared at each other across the cramped area. His eyes were still lifeless, dull like dirty water. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to shake him and ask him what the hell he had been thinking messing with me. I wanted him
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