Burn by Suzanne Phillips Read Free Book Online Page B

came home, and stuffed laundry into the dryer. She does that, plans things so that she doesn’t lose time. Dirty clothes go into the washer before she leaves; they’re ready for the dryer when she gets back. She probably mopped the floors, too, so they could dry while she was out.
    He doesn’t like that he thinks like her. That he maps out his day with survival being the only objective.
    His mother believes in prevention. She’s all about salads with dinner and berry smoothies for breakfast so they don’t get cancer, and Scouts and sports so her boys don’t go wild.
    She’s no good at fixing things.
    So where does that leave Cameron?
    Who’s going to fix him? Because he knows now without a doubt that something is wrong with him. When it was on the inside it was possible he was imagining it. That it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Now that it’s spreading, there’s no denying that he is a carrier.
    SciFi wasn’t even a blip on Patterson’s radar until he spotted him with Cameron.
    His gut tightens. SciFi’s life is about as over as Cameron’s. And when Patterson’s through with him, SciFi won’t want anything to do with Cameron. Back to being a ghost.
    Cameron must have zoned out because suddenly his mother is at the window, tapping it with her index finger, and Cameron’s whole body jerks back. His hands fly to his face, the first reaction of a person under attack. She took him by surprise; he doesn’t even do that at school anymore. He’s always on his guard there.
    Cameron tries to cover the action by pushing his hands through his hair.
    It doesn’t work. His mother’s face folds into concern.
    “Are you coming in?”
    The double-paned glass makes her voice distant. He spent most of this year hearing like this, watching things happen around him like he’s not really connected to the world.
    “Cameron?”
    She disappears and a moment later the kitchen door swings open. She steps out onto the deck.
    “What’s wrong?”
    He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
    “Are you coming inside?”
    He nods. Tries to shake himself out of the land of the lost.
    “You run the lake path?” he asks as he climbs the last step and squeezes past her.
    “Yes. I just got back.”
    “I ran the half mile in two-ten today,” he says.
    “That’s great.”
    “We had to run inside,” he explains. “The track was flooded.”
    “There was a lot of rain on the path, too.” She moves toward the refrigerator. “I thought you stopped running.”
    “Not totally. My PE teacher wants to see me on the track team next year.”
    “I do, too,” she says. She opens the fridge. “You want a snack?”
    His mother has every other Tuesday off, which means they’ll eat dinner out tonight.
    He drops his backpack and moves toward her. “Where are we eating?”
    “How about Chinese?”
    He takes hold of the refrigerator door and opens it farther, peering in around her. “How about Italian?”
    He grabs an apple from the crisper and moves away.
    “What else happened at school today?” she asks.
    “Why?” He bites into the apple and the juice runs down his throat. He doesn’t really remember tasting his food lately; maybe that’s why the sweetness of the apple stings his mouth.
    She shrugs. “This is the first time in a long time you’re talking to me.”
    “We’re talking about food,” he says.
    “And your running prowess.”
    He shrugs. “Yeah. PE was good today, I guess. Tech class, too. Me and SciFi finished our project and turned it in. A day early.”
    His mother’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s an improvement.”
    He nods. “So, you want Italian?”
    “My vote is Chinese. We’ll let Robbie weigh in, but no swaying his vote,” she says.
    He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his progress report. “Spanish wasn’t so good.” He hands her the paper. “Mrs. Marino wants you to sign this. I need to give it back to her tomorrow or you’ll have to come in and talk to her.”
    “Have you been doing your