Dark Hope by Monica McGurk Read Free Book Online Page A

The sinking winter sun was hanging low on the horizon, its glow catching Michael’s hair and making it look like it was kissed by flames.
    He caught me staring and grinned.
    I flushed, my gaze dropping to my shoes as I fumbled for something to say. “Um, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Why, are you staying after school?”
    I looked up, confused by his question. He was looking at me with amusement, almost laughing at my awkwardness. I flushed more deeply before answering him.
    “Uh, no. But my bus is over there,” I said, gesturing weakly behind me.
    “You prefer spitballs and vomit in a yellow tube of tin to a ride home with me?” he asked, mockingly stabbing himself through the heart. “Carmichael, you really know how to hurt a guy.”
    “No!” I said, too eagerly. “I mean, I didn’t know—”
    “Right this way,” he said. Winking, he turned on his heel, tossing his car keys in the air and catching them deftly with one hand as he strode away, leaving me to scramble after him.
    As we wound our way through the parking lot, he slowed his stride, allowing me to catch up.
    “You’re in the teacher’s lot,” I commented, surprised.
    “If my life of crime is too much for you, Hope, you can always take the bus,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
    “Oh, no. No judgment here,” I said quickly, thanking the heavens for a ride home.
    “Here we go,” he said, pulling up short and then gesturing broadly to the side before making a sweeping bow. “Mademoiselle, your chariot awaits.”
    He’d stopped in front of a car so sleek and slung so low to the ground it reminded me of a bullet. That is, it would have reminded me of a bullet if it actually looked as if it had any speed. This thing was decrepit. The panels were a dull gray, except for a few patches where the steel body had been replaced with pieces taken from other cars. The driver’s side mirror was held on by duct tape and a pair of fuzzy dice hung from the rearview mirror.
    “Uh, thanks?” I said, unable to suppress the questioning tone.
    He swept his long, lean body upright, shielding me from the sun as he shrugged and held out his arms in a gesture of feigned hurt. “Again, Carmichael, I am not picking up the right tone of appreciation here.”
    “Oh, I appreciate it. I’m just wondering if this death trap has seat belts.”
    He ran his hand along the hood as he walked around to the passenger side. “Old cars didn’t have seat belts. They’re exempted.”
    “Really?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.
    “C’mon, live a little, Hope. It’s only a few miles.”
    I froze, every muscle in my shoulders and back tensing. “How do you know it’s only a few miles?” I asked him sharply. “How do you know where I live?”
    He laughed as he swung the passenger door open for me. “Everyone who goes here lives within a few miles. So what do you say? Are you coming?”
    Slowly, I felt the tension draining out of my body. How could I be as paranoid as my dad? Of course I lived nearby. It was obvious. Everybody did.
    I looked up at Michael standing there waiting for me and felt a pull of longing. He was the kind of guy for whom everything was easy, everything was fun. Hadn’t I always wanted some of that?
    “Sure, why not?” I said, giving him what I hoped was my best nonchalant smile as I walked over to his side. I ducked under his arm, uncomfortably aware of how close I was to him, before climbing into the low bucket seat. “But the instant this thing drops a muffler or anything, I’m out of here.”
    “Oh ye of little faith,” he laughed, closing the door on my protests.
    As we pulled out of the parking lot, I remained hyperaware of how close I was to Michael in the tiny front seat. I could even smellhim—an earthy smell that reminded me of sweet hay and leather. I looked at my hands, which were twitching nervously in my lap, and willed them to be still.
    “Left or right?” he asked me as we approached an