Fearless by Francine Pascal Read Free Book Online Page B

dizzy again.
    A waiter hustled by and dropped two menus. The place was still noisy, but the after-school crowds were clearing out. Marco checked his hair quickly in the mirror that coated the restaurant’s side wall. He was glad he’d refused to shave his head like the other guys. He consulted the filthy laminated menu. Was he supposed to order something? He suspected she hadn’t
    asked him to meet her here because she was hungry.
    “So, Marco, tell me how you’ve been.” She was studying him intently and ignoring her menu. She leaned close. He felt a gentle foot on his.
    Yes, dizzy. Really dizzy. “I’ve been, uh, pretty cool.” He swallowed.
    “What’s been going on in the park?”
    Shit. Was he supposed to be able to think when she was doing that with her foot?
    “Not much,” he said. “Couple of my buddies got beat up last night.”
    She looked more interested than concerned. “Who did it?”
    “I’m not sure. Some real tough guys, I guess. Some guys who know how to fight.” Now her foot was gone, and he really wanted it back.
    “You’ll get them,” she said confidently.
    He liked the way she said it and the way she looked at him. He nodded real slow, the way his buddy Martin’s older brother did. “Bet your ass,” he said.
    “I need to ask you something,” she said.
    Where was her foot? Had he done something wrong? “Yeah?”
    “There’s this girl, a friend of mine. She likes to hang out in the park. I know there’s a lot of stuff going on. You know, slashing and whatever.”
    “I heard about that,” he said, his look just as knowing as hers.
    “I want to make sure nobody touches her, okay? She’s a real sweetheart, and I don’t want her getting hurt.”
    The foot was back. Marco felt a dull buzz in his ears. “Right. Okay. You point her out to me in the park, and I’ll take care of it.”
    The restaurant was nearly empty now. The waiters were sitting at a round table at the very back, eating their own snack. Marco felt a hand on his knee under the table. He had to stifle a groan. He leaned toward her and snaked his hand around the back of her neck. He kissed her hard, and she kissed him back. Her sweet smell combined with the heavy scents of fried wontons and cabbage. Her soft, blissful tongue explored his while the brown Formica table jammed into his stomach. God, he wanted to do it right here.
    Suddenly her tongue and her hands were gone and she was standing. “Come on.” She gestured at the door. “I know a place we can go.”

Who’s Heather?
    ED SAW HER THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, sitting at a chess table near the southwestern corner of the park, and his heart sped up a little. The late September breeze was blowing her blond hair out of its
    messy ponytail and around her fece. She’d shed her rumpled jacket to reveal a sleeveless white T-shirt and lithe, sculpted shoulders. Her muscles were defined, but long and graceful. In the sunshine he noticed a few freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her eyes looked less stormy grayand more Caribbean turquoise in this light.
    Her opponent at the chessboard was a man in his thirties wearing a baseball cap and a pair of expensive sneakers and appearing to concentrate about ten times harder than she was.
    She was wearing an expression he hadn’t seen on her before—sort of wide-eyed and distracted. She gazed around. She examined her fingernails. She even appeared to giggle while losing a pawn. Was this actually Gaia?
    Ed’s legs were for crap, but his eyes were excellent. It was definitely Gaia. Either that or her ditzy twin sister.
    He watched in surprise as she lost two more pawns and a knight. Her opponent was looking pretty pleased with himself. He was also allowing his eyes a few breaks from the board to gawk at Gaia.
Pervert
, Ed thought irritably.
    Gaia lost another pawn. She might be able to take Bruce Lee in a fight, but she sure sucked at chess. She giggled again. It was a weird sound. Like a parakeet mooing or something.