Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Wow.
“Just before he jumped,” Bastien adds.
A shiver courses down my spine. That’s a terrible way to die.
“He waited for a stormy night,” he goes on. “When the water would be high, the current strong, and the visibility zero. It took eight days for his body to wash up about ten miles downriver.”
“So, it was found?”
“His grave is in the town cemetery.” He nods. “Conor Doran.”
Conor. It is his house I’m staying in then.
“His twin, in the vein of revenge,” Bastien retells the story, “secured himself as her host for the prisoner exchange. After that, it’s anyone’s guess. Some say he hurt her. Others say he took everything she didn’t give his brother. Some say he was the one she was in love with all along, and when he still hated her, she knew everything his twin felt and took her own life too.”
Deacon. The story in the Falls is that it was a guy and his best friend, but Hawke realized several weeks back that they were twins. I need to tell Hawke about the grave. If Conor is really dead, then we know it was Deacon who lived with her in that house. And no one else.
Mr. Bastien continues, “Maybe he put her body in the car and pushed her over the edge of the bridge, as was her due, her soul to rest with his twin forever.”
“But they never found her body…” I say, just to see if their version of that matches ours.
He nods. “A few of us like to think she survived and escaped them. And they’re continuously on the hunt for her.”
He smiles a little, and I almost do too. I’d like to think that. It’s a little convenient and real-life stories never leave much mystery. Or hope.
But as long as there’s no body, it’s possible.
The room goes quiet, and we’re still alone. No one has shown up for class.
I sigh. “I’m going to ditch.”
He smiles, pushing off the desk and walking back around it. “Be safe.”
Picking up my bag, I walk for the door, but something he said keeps picking at the corner of my brain.
I stop and turn toward him. “You said ‘them.’”
He looks up at me.
“You said ‘a few of us like to think she escaped them.’” I tell him.
If Conor is really dead, and it’s just Deacon, then who else…
“The Rebels,” he finally replies.
Ah. Okay.
“See you tomorrow,” I say.
I walk out, heading down the hallway and back out the front entrance, my mind wandering through all the pieces of this story.
I’m not paying attention when Farrow Kelly takes my collar in one hand and shoves me up against the wall of the school.
“You left without us this morning,” he scolds, glaring down at me. “I told you not to go anywhere without us.”
I don’t listen. Everyone knows that.
Not to mention, his crew, or at least some of them, tried to kill me last night. Or maybe they just wanted to scare me, but either way, I don’t believe my safety is all that important to him.
Pulling out the wad of cash Hawke gave me, I hold it up between him and me. He smirks, grabbing it out of my hand. “Is this a payment for the bike sitting at the bottom of the river?” he asks as he flips through the bills.
“You mean, the stolen one?”
I don’t owe him for a bike he didn’t pay for.
“I need you to get me some party supplies,” I tell him.
He narrows his blue eyes. “Like drugs?”
Idiot.
“Girls,” I tell him, grinning. “Lots and lots of girls.”
Hunter
“Shoulders squared!” Coach Dewitt shouts.
I scramble backward and stop, dig in with my right foot, rear my arm back, and launch the football down the field.
“Again!”
T.C. snaps the football. I catch it.
“Laces up!” Dewitt shouts.
I quickly spin the ball as I scurry backward, my pinkie and ring finger on the laces as I throw the ball toward the end zone.
But it skids off the grass way before that, the spin putting it into a dive that’s too fast.
“You’re not listening.” The coach charges up to me, grabbing a ball out of the basket as he approaches me. “Elbow forward…” He holds the ball, demonstrating. “Rotate your wrist, and then elbow extended. You keep doing it like that, you’re going to throw out your shoulder, and you’re going to be in a world of pain.”
“I’m defense,” I tell him. “I’ve been defense. Why are you bringing me in to QB?”
Farrow’s the quarterback. Why am I stepping in for him this game?
Dewitt drops the ball, sporadic rain dotting his light blue T-shirt. “What was that tone?”
He narrows his eyes, and I close my mouth, collecting myself.
It’s Ditch Day, but he called us in for a mini-workout when, really, it’s just me he wanted. I’ve played offense before, but I’ve been a tackle here since I joined the team. That means I have opportunities to sack my brother—the Shelburne Falls quarterback—since his ego often demands that he rush for yardage out of the pocket instead of letting someone else run the ball.