Natural Selection by Elizabeth Sharp Read Free Book Online Page A

a new phase of our relationship, and I didn’t know
if I liked it. Fortunately, I was saved from contemplating it by
Evelyn arriving at the door with a bag of glue in extensions.
Tomorrow’s theme—crazy hair. She had big plans for my poor
hair.

 
     

    I SAT AT the kitchen counter on a cold
morning in late October reading the paper and waiting for everyone
else to stir. The weeks passed in a mundane shuffle of school,
homework and school again. After spirit week was finally over, I
somehow got cajoled into going to the homecoming dance. When my Mom
realized, she began to fuss and carry on. Before I knew it, I wore
a fancy purple dress, my hair piled on top of my head, and enough
makeup I wouldn’t need identification to prove I was in high
school. I sat on the bleachers most the night, though Xander drug
me out for a couple of dances. I caught Nathanial watching me
several times, a secretive smile on his face, but he never came
near me. I finally escaped after an hour and a half, hitching a
ride home with some people I barely knew just to get out of
there.
    The remainder of the month was bland
with no real place markers in my memories. With Halloween at the
end of the week, I was being drug to costume shops where I
pretended to look at costumes until Evelyn picked one out for me.
As with everything, I wasn’t really into the whole Halloween thing.
But I always wound up having fun with Evelyn, so I was ok with
it.
    Taking a bite of my oatmeal, I turned
the page. As I scanned the local stories, the lingering oatmeal in
my mouth tasted sour, and I had a hard time swallowing. My mouth
was suddenly dry as I read the short article.

    It was more than Mariah had gotten,
but I wished the story told me more. I wondered if the same symbol
had been used, if it was the same killer. Maybe it was just a
freaky coincidence, but I doubted it.
    Xander came shuffling in the kitchen,
his eyes barely open. My brother had a penchant for childish
pajamas. Today he wore bright blue ones with different sport balls
on them and an open blue robe. He went to the coffee pot and picked
it up, attempting to pour a cup before he realized it was empty and
frowned. “Why is the rum always gone?” he muttered in his best
Captain Jack Sparrow imitation as he riffled through cabinets. I
stood and started the Columbian I knew he liked, and he gave me a
sleepy grin. As it began to drip, he removed the pot and held his
cup under the basket until it filed. A little coffee hissed on the
burner as he replaced the pot and came to read over my shoulder,
sipping the strong black brew. I’m not a coffee drinker myself.
I’ve never understood how something could smell so good and taste
so horrible. Unless you drowned it in syrups and sugars, like a
caramel Frappuccino from Starbucks, I wasn’t going near the stuff.
I sipped at my milk and waited to see if he would say anything
about the article, but after a quick scan he moved off, leaning on
the counter and yawning.
    “ So how was the ‘studying’
last night?” I asked with a smirk. He gave me a cocky grin, and I
suddenly didn’t want to know. Why was I the only member of this
family with better morals than an alley cat? Deciding to change the
subject, I folded the paper with the little blurb about Jessica’s
death on top and tossed it in front of him. “I think it’s happened
again.”
    He skimmed the article, stifling
another yawn behind his hand. “I think I’ve been there. The owner
was some sort of water sprite or something.”
    My curiosity peaked. “Is there a way
to tell when I’m meeting an Otherworlder, or do they have to tell
me?” I had gotten no new information on the subject and was dying
to know more. What I found in books and on the internet wasn’t
helping, though I had gained a new interest in paranormal
fiction.
    “ There’s usually a sense of
connection between all Otherworlders, and in time, you'll be able
to feel them. What class they are first, then eventually