Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online Page B

buried.
    Kian: I’m up for it.
    Me: We could go Saturday, before the movie.
    I stared at the screen, wondering if that was too much. Maybe he’d think it was weird that I wanted to glom on to him constantly. Normal people should have other stuff to do, family activities, but Kian must be lonely too. And I’d go crazy if I hung around the Baltimore all weekend. Damn, just the prospect of Sunday made me want to crawl back in the tub.
    K. Meet you at the Broad Street stop? Not that we couldn’t plan this at school.
    Laughing, I sent, See you tomorrow.
    Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. The full speech from Macbeth popped into my head, so I murmured it aloud.
    Shakespeare was wrong. Life was far more than a shadow, and it signified everything.

 
    WINTER’S WRATH
    Friday I went with Kian to Psychedelic Records. He’d scraped together the other half of the cash somehow, which was good, as I couldn’t have paid for the rest. I need to quit being so impulsive. He also had an extra twenty for the record he’d wanted. The guy behind the counter smirked at us.
    â€œPleasure doing business. Remember, if someone realizes your IDs aren’t kosher, you never heard of me.”
    â€œGot it,” I said.
    He bagged Kian’s album and offered the colorful plastic sack. “Thanks for your patronage. Stop by again.”
    The owner followed us to the door and flipped the sign to CLOSED as we stepped out. There were only a couple of other businesses still open on this street. The weather was colder than it had been, more snow piling up in the streets. It would probably affect the buses until the plows went around. From what I’d noticed, Cross Point didn’t have enough equipment, nowhere near as efficient as Boston. Shivering, I grabbed Kian’s arm.
    â€œWe have twenty minutes until the next bus, assuming it’s not late. Let’s not wait here.”
    I slipped and slid across the street, weirdly deserted for six on a Friday night. But the better parts of Cross Point lay farther from the town center, subdivisions and malls built away from evidence of industrial failure. The flickering lights from the convenience store offered a welcome oasis, and I sighed as the warm air rushed over me.
    The girl behind the counter spared us a glance but not a smile; she was watching a small black-and-white TV. I paid for a packet of sweet rolls and two cups of bitter coffee. I added nondairy creamer and packets of sugar to mine until it turned caramel instead of sludge brown. There were three plastic stools near the far window and a narrow counter where you could set Cup Noodles or a beverage, so we went over there to wait.
    â€œIt’s kind of amazing,” Kian said, stirring his coffee.
    â€œWhat?” I split the cinnamon rolls down the middle and slid his half toward him.
    â€œThis should be awful.” He glanced around at the dingy store with a half shrug. “With someone else, it probably would be. But anything we do seems like an adventure.”
    â€œIt’s all about the company,” I agreed.
    Sipping the coffee, I decided it was just below adequate with all my additions. More important, it was hot and it warmed me up from the inside out. I nursed it, suspecting the clerk might ask us to leave if we weren’t eating or drinking items purchased in the store. For the same reason, I pecked at the sweet bun in tiny bird nibbles. It didn’t taste as delicious as I remembered from childhood, gummy more than yummy.
    Maybe it’s stale.
    â€œDo you think the buses will be on schedule tomorrow?” he asked.
    â€œI hope so. Otherwise my weekend will suck.”
    He paused, studying me intently. “Mine too.”
    Since I didn’t want him to fall for me all the way, I nudged him. “Are those headlights?”
    Peering through the slanting snow, the shine resolved into a bus shape, still about a block away. He nodded, and I raced out of the