The Edge of Falling by Rebecca Serle Read Free Book Online Page A

spin—like a globe flicked into motion.
    She takes her seat, and we plod through class. I pull out my notebook and begin scribbling. I’m not even writing coherent sentences, but anything to look busy. I can feel Trevor’s gaze on me, heavy like concrete, and I can feel the pull of Kristen—what I’d say to her if I could.
    I spend class in a state of hyperconsciousness. My upper back feels hot from tension, but I don’t pick my head up from my notebook. I’m afraid of whose eyes I might meet.
    There are chimes between classes at Kensington, no bells, and when the tinkling sound goes off, everyone grabs their book bags. The Kristen drama seems to have evaporated over the last fifty minutes, and now students are way more interested in their bone-dry cappuccinos than whether or not the disturbed girl and the one who saved her are going to embrace each other after a long summer’s absence.
    I slide my book bag over my shoulder and make my way toward the door. I only stop when I feel a hand on my back. “Caggie?”
    I turn around to see Kristen, students knocking past her, Trevor included. He half waves as he leaves, but I’m so distracted by contact with Kristen that I don’t respond.
    “Hi.” I swallow.
    She smiles. Relief floods my body like warm water. “Could I talk to you for a minute?” she asks.
    “Sure.” I shift my backpack from one shoulder to the other. I peel a hangnail off. Up close, Kristen looks good. Tiny, but well. Her skin is even a little darker, like she spent time in the sun this summer. I hope that’s true.
    She waits until the students have barreled out. A few turn back to look at us, but there are only five minutes between classes at Kensington, so no one can really afford to wait. When the last student has left, she turns to me. My heart beats frantically, like it’s trying to run away from this conversation.
    “How was your summer?” I ask. I try to keep my voice casual, but I can feel my pulse in my neck.
    “It was good,” she says. “Calm.” My mind jumps—calm like . . . medicated ? She smiles, and her warm, brown eyes seem to slow my racing blood. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I just went home to Minnesota. I saw my old friends, stayed with my grandparents. It was exactly what I needed.”
    I exhale. “Right,” I say. “Good. I didn’t really think . . .” I trail off, look at my shoes.
    “How about you?” she asks.
    I screw my face up into what I hope is a smile. “Good! You know, busy. Well, mellow, I guess. I didn’t really . . . I mean . . .” I sigh. “It was fine.”
    She shakes her head. “I meant to call you, but I wasn’t sure . . .”
    I look up and meet her gaze. “Same,” I say.
    “You know, it’s all right. I’m not . . .” Her brown eyes are fierce. “I’m not going to say anything.”
    I look away and shuffle my feet a few times back and forth in lieu of words. This kindness isn’t what I expected from her. I should say thank you, but I can’t bring myself to get the words out. I also don’t know if she means it. She may know my darkest secret, but I barely know her.
    “I’m glad you’re okay,” I say instead.
    She takes it and nods. “So I’ll see you around, then?”
    Kristen looks up at me, her eyes wide, and for a moment I see her on Abigail’s rooftop, hanging from my fingers, her face wild with terror. “Definitely,” I say.
    And then I duck past her, just as the chimes start to go off again. Class is beginning.
    *    *    *
    Lunch at Kensington is an interesting affair. No one really eats in the cafeteria. For one, most girls in my class have been on a diet since they were about ten, so lunch either consists of gossip or celery. For another, one of the perks of Kensington is that you’re allowed off campus at lunch. It’s always been this way. It’s meant to foster “community appreciation,” which means Kensington is somehow under the delusion that its students use the freedom of their