Charm & Strange by Stephanie Kuehn Read Free Book Online Page B

made me come.”
    Her jaw dropped. “You mean you didn’t want to?”
    “No. I want to go home!”
    “What? We’re not good enough for you?”
    The oldest sister, Anna, who’d said nothing so far, interjected at this point, “Phoebe, don’t.”
    “Don’t what?”
    “Don’t tease him. He’s…” Anna ran her eyes over me. She was sixteen, practically a grown-up, with long dark hair and very fine features, like one of Siobhan’s handmade dolls. Anna had authority. In her voice, in the easy way she moved. I stared at her eagerly. I was what?
    “He’s not happy,” she finished.

 
    chapter
    thirteen
    matter
    I see Jordan again. Late Friday night. Standing by the covered bridge.
    The moon is out, very full, and it’s easy to recognize her short hair and folded arms. But Jordan doesn’t see me. I make sure of that. I cling to the shadows pooling beneath the trees with my heart pounding and my blood pumping.
    All of my senses are alive.
    I glance skyward. I tell myself to be careful, but I’m lonely. That makes all the difference in the world. It’s not my normal loneliness, either, the kind where I put up all sorts of walls, like cruelty and arrogance and silence. This is a childish ache, a primitive need to be reminded I exist. I don’t like it, but what can I do? I’m human. Sort of. Enough. And hell, I’m a guy. If I don’t take care of certain needs on a regular basis, then these kinds of thoughts are unavoidable.
    That’s evolution for you.
    The whisper of my feet cutting through the long grass is drowned out by the drone of the current. Jordan doesn’t hear my approach. I am stealthy. I think she’s scared to cross the river, and I don’t blame her. It’s close to midnight. Who knows what’s out there?
    “Hey,” I say softly.
    She gasps and whirls around. Jordan’s on the trail and I’m still down in the meadow, so for once she doesn’t have to break her neck looking up at me. We’re eye to eye.
    Her shoulders relax. “Hey, Win.”
    “What are you doing?”
    She jerks her head toward the mountain. “I’m trying to get to Eden, but I forgot a flashlight.”
    “Oh.” So she intends to go to the party. Friday nights in Eden are a tradition around here. Students sneak out and gather in this secret spot every week so long as the weather’s decent. From what I can tell, this has been going on for generations. For three years running, on alumni weekend, I’ve been approached by hordes of gray-haired, grim-faced former students, and they all have the same question for me. They don’t ask about new classes or old teachers or what college I hope to attend. Instead they lower their voices, fill their eyes with reverence, and point across the river, deep into the woods, while asking, “Do you still go? Do you still go to Paradise?”
    Their Paradise of yesterday is what we call Eden today. And I know how badly they want my answer to be yes, so that’s what I say, but in truth I don’t go.
    Not to party, anyway.
    I glance at Jordan. “You don’t need a flashlight. The moon’s bright enough.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. But aren’t the woods off-limits?”
    “They are,” she says. “That’s not stopping anybody, though.”
    “You sure about that?”
    Jordan sighs and fiddles with the collar of her shirt, something striped with buttons. We’re actually dressed pretty similarly, now that I think about it. The only difference is she’s got motorcycle boots on, soft black leather, and here I am, slogging around in a pair of old Sauconys.
    Her hips shift. “Sure, I’m sure. Come on, Win. Just lead the way, okay?”
    “Wait. Did you think I was going up there?”
    “You aren’t?”
    “No.”
    Her dark eyes widen. “Then why are you out here?”
    I’m trying to reach the stars.
    Now that’s a good question, but I can’t tell her the answer. If I do, I’m screwed. Plus she looks distressed. I doubt she’ll ask for my help again, which I admire, but the thought of her hiking