Fast-Tracked by Tracy Rozzlynn Read Free Book Online

tell if he was struggling to control his previously unknown temper or keep himself from crying.
    “But how could this happen?” I begged. I was unwilling to leave and unable to understand.
    “Run home and ask your dad all about it; I’m sure he can explain it all.” His voice was drenched with disgust. “Now go !” The last word he hollered at the top of his lungs, right into my face. His face contorted as if he was about to cry. So I stepped forward to comfort him. He cringed away as if my touch repulsed him. All the air rushed out of me and was replaced with an agonizing, throbbing ache. A punch in the gut would have hurt me less.
    I stumbled back down the front stairs and turned to leave. Maybe he just needed some time to cool down and think more rationally. Then he’d see that this was all a mistake and we could get it all fixed.
    “Wait,” Byron called in a voice I almost recognized as his.
    “What?” I asked hopefully and turned around.
    “You’ll want this,” he said flatly. Then he shoved the gold letter I had dropped back into my hands. Our eyes locked for a brief moment. In them I saw his heart ripping apart before he turned and ran back into the house, slamming the door behind him.
     
    I don’t remember exactly how I made it back to my house. I was a hysterical blob of tears by the time I stumbled up the porch steps. My parents opened the front door before I got there. They must have heard me coming, but I couldn’t see and stumbled straight through the door into them. The three of us tumbled onto the floor. I didn’t bother getting up. What was the point? Byron’s life was ruined and he didn’t want my help or me anywhere near him.
    My parents tried hopelessly to get me to tell them what happened, but all I could get out was a jumble of sounds and loud wails as I continued to cry uncontrollably. At some point I managed to mutter the words Byron and orange. Somehow that was enough for my dad to piece everything together.
    I heard him try to explain it to my mom, but she seemed as unable to make sense out of it as I was. She wanted to contact them, but he warned her not to. He said they needed their time to grieve. At least I think I heard him tell her that. I might have dreamed it. It’s hard to say, because I’m not sure of exactly what point I cried myself into exhaustion.

 
    Chapter 4
     
    Instead of my new painful reality, I dreamt about the night of our first kiss. Camille had planned a gondola ride through the LifeFires of Worchester’s Botanical Gardens. She had claimed it would be spooky being on the water surrounded by complete darkness, the only light provided by the soft blue and purple flames of the coals. Predictably, at the last minute Camille had gotten ‘sick’ and decided it was better if she stayed home.
    But the night was far from spooky: it was magical. For weeks I had been questioning my feelings for Byron. After weeks of contemplation, I had finally figured out that I wanted to be so much more than just friends with him. But I still had no idea how he felt. So I had spent the week walking on eggshells around him, looking for any sign that he could actually share my feelings. If I expressed my feelings and he didn’t return them, our friendship would be forever ruined. And he meant so much to me. The thought of risking it all terrified me.
    But that night when Camille canceled on us, I noticed that he seemed nervous around me. Could I be that fortunate? Could he actually have feelings for me too? I was a ball of nerves. My thoughts kept wrestling with themselves. Should I ask him how he feels? Should I show him how I feel? Is it just my hopeful imagination that is making me see something that really isn’t there? I couldn’t decide.
    The beginning of the night had been a strained silence between us. We quietly ate the picnic dinner Camille had packed. More accurately, I tried to eat. I was so nervous that my mouth was too dry to even swallow my food. I barely