Page 224 - My FlipBook

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

Alice matched Greta’s pace, and they jostled students out
of their way—those who didn’t move quickly enough.
“I’m liking this new Greta,” Alice said as a muscly guy
flattened himself against his locker to avoid them. “Are you
sure about the spray paint?”
Greta ignored her and kept walking, her legs knowing the
way. Her feet a blur down the stairs. Traffic thinned toward
the gym. She strode forward until she heard the smack of

balls against the floor, the echoing shouts. Greta stopped,
Alice plowing into her.
“What? Why have you stopped?” Alice asked.
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
“No you’re not.”
“No, really.” Saliva pooled at the back of her mouth, her
belly a heavy sponge. She swallowed hard and bent forward, ADVANCE READING COPY

her hands on her knees. Sweat out of nowhere.
“You’re going to finish this. I can’t wait!” Alice beamed.
Maybe Ash would’ve been better, Greta thought, broken
limbs or not. She drew a few breaths to steady her stomach
and pulled herself upright, using Alice’s shoulder as a crutch.
But she didn’t let go. She reached for Alice’s hand, squeezing her
palm tightly. Hand in hand, they walked through the gym doors.
Practice hadn’t started yet. The coach talk-shouted into a
cell phone by the bleachers. Half the basketball team milled

around the court, haphazardly taking shots at the same time,
their balls ricocheting off the rim of the hoop. A guy built
like a bull moose did an under-the-leg-and-over-the-shoulder
trick with his ball.

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