Page 158 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

Dylan on his back and beat his face, again and again. She
didn’t move as bodies rushed to pull him off. Flecks of blood
spattered the court. She said nothing at all.
When the howling of five hundred people reached her
ears, and a wave of bodies lurched and heaved forward, Greta
fled through the unguarded door. She ran, her feet slapping
the floor of the empty hallway. At her locker, she yanked her
coat and purse from the hook. Too risky to return the way

she came—the crowd might spill from the gym any second
and swallow her up. She felt their vibration chase her from
the school.
At the door to the parking lot, Greta ducked out, checking
over her shoulder. A buzz whispered in the distance, growing.
She ran, scrambling on ice, to the sidewalk ringing the school.
Arms pumping, her boots gripping the shoveled walks, she ran. ADVANCE READING COPY

Ten minutes from the school, at a bus stop nearly hidden
by a tree, Greta doubled over. Air seared her lungs—ice and
fire. It couldn’t come fast enough and then it was gone before
she could get enough. What had she done, leaving him to
the mob? What had he done? She hadn’t asked him to, didn’t
want that. Did she? Maybe. She smothered that admission.
Why had she told him in the first place? The weight of it.
Something that held those words distant—from Ash and
herself—had broken loose. So heavy to carry. She should go

back, stand beside him. Face any consequences with him.
Forgive me, Ash.
Five minutes later Greta caught the first bus that pulled
up, waving an old bus transfer. The driver looked at her

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