Struck by Jennifer Bosworth Read Free Book Online Page B

me, feeling as though the eyes of the dead on the opposite wall were glaring at my back.
    “You’re going to miss lunch,” I said.
    Parker looked at me. “They’re gone,” he said.
    “Who’s gone?”
    “Jake. Kadin. Asher. They left the city. Last time I heard from Asher he said his family might take off, but …” He shrugged as if he didn’t have the energy to elaborate on how his friends had disappeared without so much as a farewell text.
    “Are they coming back?” I asked.
    Another shrug, and then his shoulders slumped. “Would you?”
    I didn’t answer, because the answer was no. We might have left, too, if it weren’t for Mom’s condition. Travel was not advisable for people with her disorder. Besides, we didn’t have anywhere else to go.
    I hadn’t seen Parker this dejected in weeks. I racked my mind for words of comfort, but came up short.
    I hadn’t made anything more than acquaintances since moving to L.A. Friendships were complicated, and I didn’t need any more complications in my life than I already had. But Parker had made three good friends—or so he’d thought—since moving here. I’d actually felt a little jealous of how close they’d become. Parker and Mom were the only people in L.A. who knew my secrets, and that made them my only real friends. The only two people in the world I could trust.
    “I’m sure they would have called to say goodbye if they could have,” I told Parker.
    “Doesn’t matter. They’re gone now.” The carefully controlled tone of his voice told me that it did matter very much to him.
    I considered mentioning that I’d seen Quentin in thecafeteria. Knowing that one of his second tier friends was still around might cheer my brother up. I opened my mouth and then closed it again, thinking of that weird look in Quentin’s eyes, and the strange, synchronized way he and Schiz and those others had moved together.
    And that scar.
    “Did you see this?” Parker pointed to a flyer tacked in the center of the wall.
    EARTHQUAKE SURVIVORS’ GROUP
    MON–FRI, 6–8 PM
    SKYLINE HIGH SCHOOL, ROOM 317
    Room 317. Why did that strike a chord?
    “Maybe something like that could help Mom,” Parker said.
    “She won’t even leave her room,” I reminded him. “You think we could get her clear to the school?”
    “We could at least try. Nothing we’ve done so far has worked.” There was tension in his voice. I could tell he was still irritated with me for getting in the way of him playing hero that morning.
    There were plenty of other copies of the flyer pinned to the wall. I pulled free the one Parker was looking at. “We’ll show it to Mom, see what she thinks.”
    I folded the flyer and tried to stuff it into my pocket, but it caught on something. I drew out the tarot card Katrina had given me. I’d forgotten about it.
    Meet me in room 317 .
    “Is that a tarot card?” Parker asked.
    I stared at the image of the stone tower perched on thelip of that cliff. The jagged yellow lightning. The falling, screaming people, their eyes open as wide as their mouths. It was unnerving how those eyes seemed to point right at me, like the eyes of the dead on the memorial wall.
    “Yeah,” I said distractedly.
    “Where’d you get it?”
    I didn’t want to tell Parker what happened in the lounge with Katrina. Didn’t want to burden him with another helping of crazy.
    “Found it.” I stuffed the card, along with the folded flyer, back into my pocket. What I wanted to do was toss the card in the trash and hope I never saw Katrina again. But it looked like an antique. I couldn’t just throw it away.
    “Mia?” Parker said, his voice somber. “You think Mom’s okay alone?”
    “I’m sure she’s fine.” As his older sister, it was my job to lie to him in the name of easing his troubled mind.
    “Liar,” Parker said (apparently I sucked at my job), and shook his head at me. His heavy blond hair swept the arches of his eyebrows. Probably anyone who saw Parker and me