Read Online Where the Truth Lies by Jessica Warman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jessica Warman
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name . “You ought to know, Emily. Big checks can do big things.”
The explanation seems simple enough. I nod. “Right. I guess they can.”
“And what about you? You’ve always gone to school here?”
“Yes. My dad is the headmaster, so I started in seventh grade. It’s like a family.” I swallow. “You’ll like it here.”
He stares at me. “I already do.”
I have never even kissed a boy. Del is a good six inches taller than me, so as he leans in, he seems much older. I have no doubt he’s more experienced than I am. I feel almost dizzy as he gets closer, a sense of suffocation surrounding me. He smells like cigarette smoke and kerosene and sweat.
“Del? Can I ask you something?”
He bites the edge of his thumbnail. “Sure.”
“Why did you leave your last school?”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “It’s not important.”
I hesitate. I wonder if he knows about all the rumors going around. “Well, then, what was it? Did you get kicked out?”
“No.” He tilts his head downward. That smell— it’s both delicious and gross. But his mouth is so beautiful, his lips full and teeth slightly crooked, so I can tell he’s never had braces. “Can I tell you something?”
I don’t know what I’m doing out here with him. I feel like a little kid. “Sure.”
“I like you, Emily.”
I feel numb. “Del,” I inform him, “you like Stephanie.”
“Do I, now?” He grins.
“Yes. Yes, you do.”
“Stephanie’s a pretty girl.” He considers. “She’s a beautiful girl.”
“Right,” I say. “She’s popular, too. And rich.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Good for Stephanie.” He’s so close to me now that our foreheads are touching. “But I like you.”
I pull away. He reaches out and holds on to my arm. “You don’t know me at all,” I say. My voice is breathy. “And I don’t know anything about you.”
“You know about my family. You know I didn’t learn to swim until I was fifteen.”
“That’s not anything. Tell me something else.” I pause. “Where’d you get your tattoo?”
He shakes his head. “Not important.”
“You’re seventeen. You shouldn’t have one of those yet.”
“Emily, shhh.” He tugs on my arm. “Come here. I want to kiss you.”
For a second, I freeze. He doesn’t like Stephanie. He likes me. We’re alone in the woods. He’s holding on to me. There is nowhere else to go.
He glances down at the tattoo. “If I tell you where I got it, will you kiss me?”
“No. We should go back.”
But he ignores me. “A few years ago, my sister and I were in the same foster home. It was the last time I saw her. Her name is Melody.”
“You told me her name already.”
“It wasn’t a good place. Sometimes people … they take in kids just for the money, you know?”
I giggle. “Kind of like here?”
“No,” he says, serious. “Not like here. This place is different.” He licks his lips. “Anyway, my sister hurt herself. She felt like … I don’t know, like damaged goods, I guess. So we had this neighbor who owned a tattoo parlor, and we convinced him to give her a tattoo on her wrist. We convinced him to give one to both of us.”
It occurs to me that what he’s describing is exactly what Stephanie wants to get with Ethan—matching tattoos. Funny, though—the way Del’s telling the story makes it sound interesting and intimate, almost beautiful. Not gross.
“She was hurting herself?” I ask. “What do you mean? Like, she cut her wrists?”
Del nods. “Something like that.”
I can’t even believe what he’s saying. “And you were fourteen when you got the tattoo?”
“Yes. I’ve been in foster homes my whole life. My parents now are really good people, though. I got lucky.” He looks at the apple. “My adoptive mom wants to help me get this removed. But I’ll never let them take it.”
“Why not?”
He inches his face closer to mine. “My sister. I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I
The explanation seems simple enough. I nod. “Right. I guess they can.”
“And what about you? You’ve always gone to school here?”
“Yes. My dad is the headmaster, so I started in seventh grade. It’s like a family.” I swallow. “You’ll like it here.”
He stares at me. “I already do.”
I have never even kissed a boy. Del is a good six inches taller than me, so as he leans in, he seems much older. I have no doubt he’s more experienced than I am. I feel almost dizzy as he gets closer, a sense of suffocation surrounding me. He smells like cigarette smoke and kerosene and sweat.
“Del? Can I ask you something?”
He bites the edge of his thumbnail. “Sure.”
“Why did you leave your last school?”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “It’s not important.”
I hesitate. I wonder if he knows about all the rumors going around. “Well, then, what was it? Did you get kicked out?”
“No.” He tilts his head downward. That smell— it’s both delicious and gross. But his mouth is so beautiful, his lips full and teeth slightly crooked, so I can tell he’s never had braces. “Can I tell you something?”
I don’t know what I’m doing out here with him. I feel like a little kid. “Sure.”
“I like you, Emily.”
I feel numb. “Del,” I inform him, “you like Stephanie.”
“Do I, now?” He grins.
“Yes. Yes, you do.”
“Stephanie’s a pretty girl.” He considers. “She’s a beautiful girl.”
“Right,” I say. “She’s popular, too. And rich.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Good for Stephanie.” He’s so close to me now that our foreheads are touching. “But I like you.”
I pull away. He reaches out and holds on to my arm. “You don’t know me at all,” I say. My voice is breathy. “And I don’t know anything about you.”
“You know about my family. You know I didn’t learn to swim until I was fifteen.”
“That’s not anything. Tell me something else.” I pause. “Where’d you get your tattoo?”
He shakes his head. “Not important.”
“You’re seventeen. You shouldn’t have one of those yet.”
“Emily, shhh.” He tugs on my arm. “Come here. I want to kiss you.”
For a second, I freeze. He doesn’t like Stephanie. He likes me. We’re alone in the woods. He’s holding on to me. There is nowhere else to go.
He glances down at the tattoo. “If I tell you where I got it, will you kiss me?”
“No. We should go back.”
But he ignores me. “A few years ago, my sister and I were in the same foster home. It was the last time I saw her. Her name is Melody.”
“You told me her name already.”
“It wasn’t a good place. Sometimes people … they take in kids just for the money, you know?”
I giggle. “Kind of like here?”
“No,” he says, serious. “Not like here. This place is different.” He licks his lips. “Anyway, my sister hurt herself. She felt like … I don’t know, like damaged goods, I guess. So we had this neighbor who owned a tattoo parlor, and we convinced him to give her a tattoo on her wrist. We convinced him to give one to both of us.”
It occurs to me that what he’s describing is exactly what Stephanie wants to get with Ethan—matching tattoos. Funny, though—the way Del’s telling the story makes it sound interesting and intimate, almost beautiful. Not gross.
“She was hurting herself?” I ask. “What do you mean? Like, she cut her wrists?”
Del nods. “Something like that.”
I can’t even believe what he’s saying. “And you were fourteen when you got the tattoo?”
“Yes. I’ve been in foster homes my whole life. My parents now are really good people, though. I got lucky.” He looks at the apple. “My adoptive mom wants to help me get this removed. But I’ll never let them take it.”
“Why not?”
He inches his face closer to mine. “My sister. I don’t know when I’ll see her again. I
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