Silent Alarm by Jennifer Banash Read Free Book Online

back, pulling him down on top of me, blotting out the thoughts that told me to slow down, to think, to wait, the words drowned out by the friction of our own bodies, the heat of his kiss.
    â€œAlys?” The low thrill of Ben’s voice coming through the tiny speaker makes me believe, just for a moment, that everything is going to be all right, and I feel a weight lifting off of my shoulders before I remember that it isn’t, that it won’t be, that nothing could ever be all right again.
    â€œYeah. I’m here.” My voice sounds small and tinny traveling through the air. Not like myself at all. An imposter.
    There is silence on his end. Then an intake of breath. I can almost see him there in his room, the white walls and dark wood, his laptop glowing softly on his desk. I knew he was sitting on his bed, one hand absentmindedly pulling at his thick, dark hair, twisting pieces of it between his fingers the way he always did whenever he was sad or upset, his face tense.
    â€œJesus Christ, Alys. I’ve been going out of my fucking mind. Things are crazy over here.” His voice is clipped, impatient. “I called you all last night. I didn’t know . . . I mean, I hoped, but I wasn’t sure if . . .” His voice trails off, and I knew—I knew without him having to say a word.
    If you’d made it out.
    â€œI’m sorry.” I look down at the floor, at the navy- and sky-blue polka-dot rug my mother bought me at Target last year. We stopped for ice cream on the way home, mint chocolate chip, my tongue numbed from the cold. “I should’ve called. I just . . . there are reporters sneaking into my backyard, camped out on our doorstep, and my parents are basically losing it.” My eyes fill with tears that splash down the end of my nose. “I saw him, Ben. In the library. Luke. I was there.”
    I could hear the sound of his breathing, the way it caught in his chest.
    â€œAlys.”
    Never had my name sounded so ominous. A feeling of dread sweeps through me, and I grab the quilt on my bed in one hand, balling it in my fist until my knuckles turn white and numb.
    â€œKatie’s gone. She didn’t come home from school yesterday, so we went to the hospital and waited there, but no one would tell us anything at first. We didn’t know if she was hurt or . . .”
    His voice broke, and a tearing sound came from his throat, echoing through the phone. “She’s gone, Alys.”
    Katie. Oh, Katie.
    Katie is Ben’s younger sister. She has gobs of long dark hair that she ties back with colored ribbons (a different shade for each day of the week) and cheeks that are perpetually flushed. She’s all pinks and whites, a walking strawberry sundae. Her life’s goal is basically to make the varsity cheer team by next year. She wears TOMS shoes exclusively in bright red and blue, collects rocks, and still believes in fairies. She follows Ben everywhere as if he’s her own personal god. She’s also a freshman, and is thus highly annoying, and I love her unreservedly.
    Was a freshman. Was.
    My heart falters in my chest, a sharp, searing pain, and for the first time I wonder if it were to actually stop, give out, if it wouldn’t be a relief, if it wouldn’t be better for everyone.
    â€œAre they . . . Are they sure? I mean, Ben, there were a lot of people there yesterday, and she looks a lot like Sarah Boyd,
a lot
like her, and—”
    I hear myself and I am babbling. I know I am, but I can’t stop. If I stop, something worse might happen, something might—
    Oh, Katie, please don’t be
    (dead)
    I can’t say it aloud. I can’t even think it.
    â€œIt was her, Alys.” Ben’s voice is resigned. I can hear the exhaustion in it, the grief. “They saw her. Late yesterday afternoon.”
    What’s left of my hope surfaces for a moment, stretching its wings.