Fairy Tale by Cyn Balog Read Free Book Online Page B

eyes into the air, concentrating hard on the spot above him, hoping to get a glimpse of whatever he's talking to so that I can confirm that my boyfriend isn't destined for a straitjacket. Finally, when I'm about to give up, I see something move. It's translucent, the color of bubble gum, sort of like a glob of hair gel. A glob of hair gel with a mind of its own, because it's moving in gentle circles and is suspended right above Cam's head.
    I blink twice. "What the hell is that?" When nobody answers, I look at Pip. "What is that?"
    Pip's eyes widen. "Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."
    Great. He's ignoring me, too.
    I have no idea how anyone can classify gooey hair fixative as either male or female, but I can't concentrate on that right now. I'm getting more ticked by the minute that Cam finds the blob more worthy of his attention than his own girlfriend.
    "Cam," I say softly. He is still going on, very solemnly, to the nothing, about how he'd really prefer things to be kept under wraps right now. It's almost as if / don't exist. "Cam!"
    Startled, he turns toward me. As he does, the pink glob begins to separate and in an instant moves around his head, toward me, in a thousand brilliant and beautiful sparkles. It spreads over me, warm and tingling on my skin, and I can't seem to remember what it was I was going to say. That's when Cam starts to lunge toward me, this wild look in his eyes. A shot of fear runs through my nerves when he reaches for me, yelling, "No, don't!" his mouth frozen in an exaggerated O. Before he can lay a finger on me, though, there's a sudden, blinding pain on the side of my head. The last thing I see is the cold, hard tile stretching up to meet me.

Chapter Twelve
     
    "MORGAN?" CAM'S VOICE lures me back.
    I open my eyes, but everything is fuzzy shadows, like clouds, like the way I expect heaven would be.
    I'm dead.
    It's cold in heaven. I'm lying down, under a blanket that feels like burlap, and it smells like perspiration, grass, and lawn fertilizer.
    Do people sweat in heaven? And I thought things were just naturally green up there, without the need for harsh chemicals.
    Finally, my vision improves to the point where I can make out an old scoreboard, lying on its side, with the faded slogan GO H WKS! I'm on the floor of a cramped storeroom, with cleaning supplies and grass seed on shelves all around, staring down at me...And the reason the blanket on top of me feels like burlap is because it is. I'm lying down on a gym mat that looks like it was attacked by a team of wildcats, for all the tears in it. The only light in the place is slashing through an air vent near the ceiling, so I can barely make out Cam's face, his lips spread in a straight line.
    "Where are we?"
    "The shed by the football field."
    "Gorgeous. Are you going to explain things to me now?"
    "That's why I brought you here," he says.
    "Oh, I thought you were just going to ravage my body." I sigh. "Okay. I'm listening. If it isn't a tumor, what is it?"
    He's kneeling down next to me, chewing on the underside of his thumb. He never bites his nails; instead, he prefers to go right to his calluses, and he has plenty from all the weight lifting he's done since freshman year. It's the one habit of his I hate, but right now, I don't feel like nagging. And I want to hear the story.
    If he will just tell it. Instead, he's inspecting an old pair of gardening gloves nailed to the wall across from us. He appears to have forgotten me. Again.
    I snap my fingers. "Hello?"
    "Sorry."
    "Dawn again?"
    "No, I'm just trying to figure out the best way to tell you this."
    "Just tell me," I say. We've always been able to tell each other everything, so I'm getting more worried by the second. What could possibly be so bad? He's still looking baffled, so I say, "Here, I'll help. Who the hell hit me?"
    "Dawn."
    "Dawn? Your imaginary girlfriend?"
    He clicks his tongue. "If she hit you, she can't be imaginary, can she?"
    "Okay, Mr. Attitude. So