Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) by Madeleine Henry Read Free Book Online Page B

beady brown eyes. She grips her bony knees with locked arms, firm and inflexible. As if to say her mind is made up, and there’s no going back. I clench my fists. I won’t back down so quickly.
    “How could you let her?” I demand.
    “The heat will save my s on’s life,” Mrs. Windsong says tersely.
    “You don’t even know what he has,” I spit. “None of us do.”
    “ I know it gets worse the colder he is,” Mrs. Windsong says defensively. “You don’t know him like I do. This heat is his only chance.”
    I scorn her desperation. She isn’t thinking clearly. She and Star have lost all reason, and I want to flip over the bar. Wick interrupts us with a cough so hard that I worry he might throw up a lung. His whole body shakes under a thick mound of quilts at Mrs. Windsong’s feet. I can’t see his face, and I doubt he’ll show himself at all tonight. He must be humiliated. He knows how weak this makes him look, and he knows what I think of weakness.
    “He’s suffering,” Mrs. Windsong pleads.
    And now I’m suffering , I think, imagining the agony I’ll feel without Star. But I can’t say any more. It will hurt Star more than she is already.
    Star. She stands off to the side of the room with her back as straight an arrow. I turn to face her and finally meet her eyes. She looks strong and stoic in her parka, but I know her better than that. Inside, she is sobbing. I lunge to embrace her, and she pushes me weakly away. It’s the kind of push that says she doesn’t actually want me to leave. I shove gently past her arms and hug her. Touch her hair. Love the home I am about to lose.
    “You’re making it worse!” Mrs. Windsong cries. I shoot her my darkest look and fill silence with hatred. Wick coughs again as Mrs. Windsong stares me down without blinking. She sits so tensely that it looks like she’s on the verge of breaking. As if that’s all she can do to keep herself from falling apart. I know she’s had to sacrifice one child to save another, but I can’t let myself pity her. She is sending Star into the unknown—and away from me.
    “Phoenix,” Star whispers into my ear, “I’m so sorry.”
    That gets me. She shouldn’t feel bad. My eyes flicker over her shoulder to a strange box behind the bar. In the dim glare, it is glossy and white. The top lies open to reveal mounds of black tissue paper. Something Easy. Probably came with that electric thing , but I can’t care about that now. I look back into her blue eyes and see that there is no changing her mind. Even though it means parting with me, she feels compelled to leave. I can feel the determination behind her sadness. I swallow a lump in my throat and accept that I can only love her until they tear us apart. I don’t know what else I can do.
    “How long do you have?” I ask her. We fixate on each other, our noses just three inches apart. I hold her small chin in my hand.
    “Tomorrow,” she whispers.
    I’m empty. Star leaves me tomorrow. She will be thrown into the United States like a piece of meat and we might never hold each other again. Her eyes start to water and I brush one budding tear away with my thumb. Her lips quiver. She looks up at the ceiling to contain her sadness; my own heart is sinking.
    “How many hours do we have?” I croak. This gets Star. She starts to cry with her face buried in her hands. I know she feels bad for crying, because she won’t want to make me sad. She pushes me away—harder this time, like she means it—and collapses onto the mattress. She shakes next to Wick’s mound, and seeing the both of them together rips me apart.
    “Twelve hours,” Mrs. Windsong cuts in. “At first light.”
    I kneel, and Star burrows her face in my chest. She cries silently so that Wick doesn’t hear. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I know I have to be strong for her. I hug her back firmly and clench my jaw. 
    Mrs. Windsong shuffles off the bar top and walks to the top of the staircase. She sits