Silence - eARC by Mercedes Lackey, Cody Martin Read Free Book Online Page B

caught dead wearing grunge stuff, not even in a backwater place like this, and the rich kids obviously wouldn’t be eating at the drive-in. But she was pretty sure she was catching them surreptitiously eyeballing her, and in her capris, henley and hoodie—none of them faded—she was standing out like a sore thumb.
    And yet—after those first few glances, no one seemed at all curious about her. They all went back to their own, low-voiced conversations, talk that didn’t seem to include any of the shrieks of laughter, broad gestures, or sudden rises in tone that you’d expect. In fact, there wasn’t any real animation in their talk at all. It was as if they were too worn-out to get excited about anything. I think I moved into a Stephen King novel.
    Then again, what was there to get excited about? One television station, one radio station, no cable. You had to get to the next town to get anything new, and how would you know about what was new in the first place? Magazines, maybe, but magazines would turn into a torment, showing you all kinds of things that you couldn’t have. Maybe in the end it was just easier to give up and settle for what you could get?
    It was strange to eat a burger and fries that clearly had never been formed by a machine, or cooked on an assembly line. The burger wasn’t thin, like the ones she was used to; the patty was uneven, and there were charred spots on it, and the cheese wasn’t evenly melted. The cheese didn’t taste like burger cheese, it tasted like the cheese Brenda put out in chunks for parties. The chewy bun didn’t help things. Some of the fries still had skin on them. The whole time she was there, the other kids kept…it was a weird sort of ignoring her. Not like they were snubbing her. More like they didn’t know what to do about her, so they were ignoring her. She finished her food quickly, doing her best not to draw any more non-attention than she already was.
    It was clear she was going to need to get some—what did Biology class call it? “Protective coloration.” Maybe if she looked more like them, they’d talk to her.
    Well, she was pretty sure there were some thrift stores between here and home. If she couldn’t get grunge-chic there…
    She got her bike, and headed back up the street. On the way, a sign caught her eye, and she realized it was the bookstore Beth had told her about, the one where the nerds hung out. Hey…it might have wifi, if the nerds hang there. Or at least have a net-cafe… It was worth a shot.
    Another of the ubiquitous bells-over-the-door jangled as she pushed it open.
    There was a cash register at the front, and a guy sitting on a stool behind it. Finally, here was someone who didn’t look as if he was worn-out and worn-down. He was, she guessed, somewhere in his mid-thirties, maybe early forties. He had slightly long, wavy dark hair and a full beard; both had a few strands of gray in them, but not enough to be too noticeable. He had a sort of stern expression; more like “worried” stern than “I want you kids out of my store” stern. He was wearing a thin leather jacket, black, and a dark blue work shirt under it, with the collar open.
    He looked up at her, nodded once, then went back to reading the heavy book he had in his hands. She turned her attention to the rest of the store.
    There was a coffee bar at the back with some stools in front of it. The rest of the store was tables and chairs, and a couple of beaten up but comfortable-looking chairs and couches, mixed with bookshelves. More bookshelves lined the walls. It was warm in here, not a stuffy warm, but a comfortable warm. It smelled like paper, and coffee, and a little bit of leather. Right up by the counter with the cash register was a magazine rack, but she couldn’t see what was on it from where she stood. The lighting was muted, but there were little green-shaded banker’s lamps near the chairs for people to turn on if they wanted more light.
    Sadly, there wasn’t a