Read Online Under Rose-Tainted Skies by Louise Gornall - Free Book Online Page B

a solid embrace. It’s the kind of hug that makes me think I’m witnessing a reunion. I don’t mean tostare, but my no-touch rule is craving attention, and I’m trying to remember what it feels like to hold someone without worrying what kind of disease you could catch.
    I’ve arrived at Ebola. I’m so busy considering the science of spreading that I miss the moment the pair break apart. I don’t have time to snatch my senses and look away before Luke sees me staring.
    â€˜Norah,’ he greets me, looking all kinds of sheepish with his chin tucked into his chest. His dad looks at me expectantly, then back at Luke, then back at me again. But instead of offering an introduction, Luke scuttles into his house. His dad follows, but not before throwing a confused glance my way.
    Interesting.
    My mind is a rabbit hole that I fall down repeatedly for the next hour. I wonder why Luke got squirrelly at the idea of introducing his dad to me. I blame myself, being scrunched up in a blanket and sitting in my hallway like it’s the norm. What’s left of my fingernails pays the ultimate price for my feelings of inadequacy.
    Sometime after eight, Luke emerges from his house, twirling car keys around his finger and carrying his school backpack. I turn away, fix my sights on a monarch butterfly that’s flirting with the flowers.
    â€˜Hey, Neighbour.’ My head snaps around. Luke is standing by the boxwood, smiling at me, almost a different guy from the one who was here before.
    I summon enough enthusiasm to smile back.
    â€˜Hi.’
    â€˜Don’t suppose you need a ride to school?’ He shakes his keys at me.
    â€˜I’m good. But thank you.’
    â€˜Any time.’ There’s a brief pause during which I attempt to braid my fingers. ‘Did you get my invite?’ he asks.
    â€˜Yes.’ It takes a huge amount of effort to stop myself from wincing. Or, you know, start weeping and begging him to cancel for the sake of my sanity.
    â€˜You’re coming, right?’ He laughs, all nerves. ‘You have to come. Yours will be the only name I know.’ He plucks leaves off the boxwood. I pluck threads from my duvet.
    â€˜It’s not that I don’t want to come.’ Awkwardness bleeds into my tone.
    â€˜Ah. You have other plans,’ he concludes with a nod of his head.
    â€˜No. It’s not that at all.’ This is not an absurd assumption for him to make, but I raise my voice and respond like it is. Relief flashes across his face, and I lift my chin a little higher. ‘It’s just . . . I still have this cold . . .’ But that’s not enough. A slight case of the sniffles doesn’t stop normal teenagers from having a good time. ‘Then there’s this important French assignment I have to finish . . .’
    â€˜I didn’t think they were still teaching French at Cardinal.’
    Double crap. They’re not. Cardinal is the third school in the state to swap French for Chinese. It happened the summer after I left. There was a ceremony. Police Chief Zhang Yong gave a speech about diversity that made Vice Principal Turner ugly-cry. I know all this because someone took her picture, posted it on The Hub, and the thing was circulated for what felt like half a century.
    What a dumb mistake to make. I’m not thinkingstraight. The space outside seems to be swelling. My head is begging me to kill this conversation, slip back inside, and close the door. Like a toddler tugging on my apron strings, it’s demanding, forcing me to think about everything. It wants me to slink back, seamlessly, into our routine. It’s getting twitchy at the idea of human conversation or, worse, human contact. In complete contrast, the only thing my heart’s wondering right now is: How well do you have to know someone before you can call them a friend?
    â€˜It’s this extracurricular after-school thingy,’ I reply.