Blest by Blaise Lucey Read Free Book Online Page A

room. His fear dissolved and he returned the kiss, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her closer.
    A flash of lightning turned the room white, like an old, over-exposed photograph, lighting Claire with a silver glow. A pain shot through his spine like a spike. He pulled back from Claire and cried out, falling backward in the chair. The pain didn’t stop when he hit the floor. It got worse. He writhed back and forth, jerking like a puppet with broken strings. It felt like his skin was going to burst open, like his body was on fire. Claire flicked on the lights, her face pale.
    “Jim, Jim, what’s wrong?” Her voice was an echo from faraway, some other universe.
    The last thing Jim saw was one more flash of lightning against the windowpane, as blinding as the sun.

4
    Jim woke up to the sour stench of stale beer, his head bouncing back and forth on his chest. He groaned and looked down at his feet, where there were two half-eaten Big Macs bouncing around in boxes. A seatbelt kept him locked in place, but the car bounced every few seconds, sending little aftershocks of pain through his back.
    He already knew where he was from the smell. “Dad?” he asked, craning his head to look at Michael. His vision was blurry, so he squeezed his eyes open and closed. Questions flooded through him. “How . . . how’d I get here? Why . . .” He rubbed his back. “What happened?”
    Michael hunched over the steering wheel, his face grim. He wore a faded flannel shirt and his eyes had dark circles under them. Outside, the rain pounded the windows and the windshield wipers sliced back and forth in overdrive. “What did I say to do after school, Jim?” he asked quietly.
    Jim closed his eyes, wincing. Leave it to Michael Blest to kick you while you were already down. His head felt like it had broken into shards. Every time he twisted his neck, something sliced into him. He wondered if this was what every first kiss felt like. Was he just doomed never to be happy? Where was Claire? How had he gotten here?
    “Jim.”
    “I saw your text, but I got invited to a party.” Jim gasped as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his body.
    “I know you did. Looks like you had a lot of fun, huh?”
    “Dad, I didn’t drink, if that’s what you—”
    “I know that!” Michael snapped. “It’s worse than that, Jim. A lot worse.”
    “Worse? What do you mean, worse?”
    His dad didn’t answer. He drove on through the darkness in silence, the rain pounding the windshield. After about ten minutes, the entrance to Pearlton High School came into view, the streetlights quivering in the steady rain.
    Jim squinted at the dull brick building as it emerged from the gloom. “Why are we here? Don’t I need to see a doctor?”
    The truck roared to a halt at the back entrance of the school, in the same parking lot where Jim had gotten into Gunner’s Range Rover a few hours earlier. He pressed his forehead against the cool window. “Dad . . . what the . . .” His breath misted on the windowpane.
    “It’s time,” Michael said gruffly. He threw open the truck door and hopped out.
    Jim thought about staying inside, curling up against the spider of agony crawling across his back, but knew his dad would grab him and haul him out of the truck. Michael was in one of those moods. He hoped this wasn’t some drunken escapade, like the time his dad had tried to steal all the angels from everyone’s lawns on Christmas and made Jim come. “No one knows anything about angels!” his dad had shouted over and over, dragging the statues into the street.
    Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and stumbled out onto the pavement, standing on shaky legs in the cold rain. The prickle of water felt good on his feverish skin. His dad grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the backdoor of the school. Someone had already opened the door, a short man who was a little hunched. Like a hermit crab.
    “Jim and Michael Blest!” Mr. Webb called through the rain. “Right on