The Cage by Megan Shepherd Read Free Book Online Page A

another licorice stick. “And controlling men is the only way women like you and me will survive.”
    “What did you say?” Cora asked.
    Nok didn’t realize she’d mumbled aloud until Cora’s hand squeezed hers in the darkness. “Hey. You should sleep. Lucky’s keeping watch, and I don’t sleep much either. You can close your eyes. It’s safe.”
    Nok searched the dark ceiling for flashing bulbs but found none. No photographers. No Delphine with her dribbling black licorice.
    She didn’t let go of Cora’s hand. She squeezed her eyes shut, and thought of banana leaves and khee mao noodles. Her name meant bird in Thai; she missed the birds back home.
    If she was being honest, the birds were the only thing she missed.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
    10
    Cora
    CORA STARED AT THE ceiling, feeling the absence of the glow-in-the-dark stars as strongly as the absence of her necklace. Her eyes were bleary with exhaustion, but her mind wouldn’t quiet.
    She sat up to see if Lucky was still awake too.
    The doorway was empty. Alarms rang in her head, and she jumped out of bed and checked the other bedrooms, then jogged down the stairs, and stopped.
    He sat in the front doorway, head tilted back, eyes closed. He looked peaceful. She could almost believe she was home, a normal girl at a house party that had gone on too late, stumbling upon a cute guy passed out in the doorway.
    His head rolled toward her, and his eyes opened. He scrambled to his feet. “Is something wrong?”
    “No. I . . . I was just awake. I thought I’d keep you company.”
    His shoulders eased. He nodded toward the floor, a silent invitation to join him. Cora hesitantly sat in the doorway opposite him, hugging her tired muscles. He tossed his jacket to her as a pillow.
    The jukebox was silent now. It could be midnight, or it could be five in the morning. There was no way to tell.
    Lucky looked at the dark sky. “There aren’t any stars here. In Montana, people watch the stars like people in other places watch movies. My granddad used to wake me up when there was a new moon and drag me out to the fields. Said he had Blackfoot blood in his veins, and wanted to teach me his people’s legends written in the constellations.” He’d been smiling at the memory, but it faded. “I miss him, and his old lies. He wasn’t any more Blackfoot than I am royalty.” He rubbed the place on his wrist where a watch would normally be.
    Cora paused. “Is your granddad the one who gave you the watch you’re missing?”
    His eyebrows rose. “How’d you know?”
    “You reach for it when you talk about him.” She touched her throat. “I had a necklace that disappeared when I woke here. It had a charm for each member of my . . .” She stopped. It all sounded so silly. Her life couldn’t be summed up by a string of charms. Besides, if she talked too much, Lucky might remember the news stories from two years ago, and he’d never trust her if he knew she’d been in juvie.
    Her hand fell away. “Tell me more about your granddad.”
    Lucky snorted. “He’s a grumpy bastard. He got messed up after fighting in Vietnam. I moved out there a couple years ago—my mom’s deceased and my dad’s in Afghanistan. Third tour. He only gets leave every six months.”
    His head was pitched downward so his hair hid his face. She wanted to tuck those strands back and read the words between his words: a mother who died too early. A father who wasn’t there. A grandfather ruined by war. Where did he fit in to all that?
    “I’m sorry about your mother. How did it happen?”
    He shrugged a little stiffly. “Car accident. Isn’t that how they always go—moms who die too young?” He paused, and then cleared his throat. “I was little. Five years old. I don’t remember much. I didn’t see it happen.” His words were a little forced; maybe he didn’t want her to feel sorry