Figment by Elizabeth Woods Read Free Book Online

walked away, and he nodded and waved.
    “So tell me,” I said as we perched on the back of a bench looking out at the water. “What happened—you know, afterward?” I couldn’t bring myself to say “the accident.” It made it seem real all over again.
    Davis took a sip of his coffee. His eyes looked moody now. He stared out at the river, where two sculls of rowers were gliding by rapidly. “They wouldn’t let me see you, wouldn’t tell me what happened to you. I practically broke down the hospital door trying to get in. Did they tell you that?”
    My heart twisted, thinking of myself inside at the same time, screaming for him. “No, they didn’t,” I whispered. I set my coffee down, suddenly unable to swallow.
    I watched a young mother feeding her little boy sips from a juice box. “Davis, there’s something I’ve got to ask you,” I said slowly.
    “What?” He took my hand and massaged the back.
    “My father.” I didn’t want to hear the answer, but I made myself go on. “Did he threaten you at all? You know, like saying he’d press charges about the hacking thing if you called me? Or . . .” I hesitated. “Did he offer you money if you stayed away?” My voice dropped until Davis had to lean forward to catch my words. “Is that why you didn’t come to my house after the accident?”
    “Are you serious?” He jumped up from the bench, his face flushing. “Do you actually think I’d give you up for some kind of bribe? Who do you think I am, Zo?”
    “I don’t!” I reached for his hands, which were balled into fists, and held them tightly in mine. “Sit down, please.”
    He ignored me and started pacing up and down in front of the bench.
    “I knew you wouldn’t go through with it. I just had to ask, to know what my father was capable of. Don’t be mad,” I pleaded.
    He stopped and nodded. “It’s okay. Sorry I flew off the handle. I’m just under some pressure right now, that’s all.”
    “What do you mean?”
    A scrim of hardness dropped over his face. He balled up his croissant wrapper and aimed it at a nearby trash can. “Nothing.” The hardness was gone. He stood up and took my hand. “Come on.”
    We wandered away from the river and found ourselves at the foot of a steep, narrow street made of uneven cobblestones. victoria lane , read the street sign. Old stone and brick buildings were squashed together, lining the sidewalks, wooden signs hung out front.
    “This looks cool. Let’s check it out.” We started up the hill, hand in hand.
    The shops we passed were small, dimly lit, and stuffed with treasures, I imagined. At the top of the hill, I stopped at one shop with a giant stuffed owl in the display window. margrave’s apothecary was painted in peeling gold letters on the glass.
    “Ooh, let’s go in here.” I pulled open the carved wooden door.
    A bell tinkled overhead as we stepped in. The place was a dim, musty fantasyland of shelves crowded with oddly shaped bottles, huge cabinets full of tiny drawers, and glass-fronted cases crowded with strange little figurines and boxes of buttons. A brass-and-wood ceiling fan lazily stirred the thick air. At the back, a wizened, white-haired man sat very still on a stool with his arms folded and his chin resting on his chest. It took me a minute to realize he was asleep.
    “It’s like something out of Dickens,” I whispered.
    “Or a horror movie.” Davis pinched my butt, and I squeaked. The man at the front woke up with a start.
    “Oh, excuse me, welcome.” He straightened up. “May I help you with anything?”
    I smiled at him. “Just looking around.” I opened a random drawer in the cabinet nearest me. It was filled entirely with old political buttons. The next drawer held coins with holes in the middle.
    “I’m getting you this.” Davis held up a small gold powder compact.
    “Davis, seriously?” I examined it more closely. It was beautiful—surprisingly heavy, with engraved violets on the lid. I flipped the