Warped by Maurissa Guibord Read Free Book Online Page A

Fruit.”
    “Those are chocolate-covered.”
    “Of course. For the antioxidants.”
    As they munched, Tessa looked through a glossy photography magazine while Opal flipped open a copy of Guitar World .
    “Take a look at this Les Paul,” Opal said. She pushed her wispy bangs out of her eyes and tapped the picture, as if she could make a riff come out of the glossy paper.
    “Nice,” said Tessa with a glance. She didn’t know a thing about guitars, but Opal sure did. In fact, Opal could pretty much play any instrument she laid her hands on. She had a gift for music, and planned to go to the New England Conservatory after graduation.
    Restless, Tessa dropped the magazine, got up and straightened the few items on her desk: a picture of her with her mom and dad, a calendar book and a small jar of multicolored beach glass she’d collected over the years. Finally she walked over to where the tapestry hung on the wall.
    Opal glanced up, and noticing the tapestry, she let the magazine drop from her hands. “Cool unicorn,” she commented. Then she made a slight grimace. “Not exactly My Pretty Pony, is it?”
    It was true, Tessa thought, considering it. The unicorn in the tapestry didn’t look like the gentle creatures from fairy-tale illustrations. And definitely not like the chubby pastel versions that had decorated her pillowcases when she was a little girl.
    It had a savage kind of beauty. Its eyes blazed like golden flames from behind the shaggy tangle of silver-gray mane. The black hooves on its raised forelegs looked long and sharp, more like talons. And she saw something she hadn’t noticed before: in addition to the bloody cut on the creature’s cheek, the tip of its long, spiral horn was dark, the color of dried blood.
    As if it just gored the middle out of Bambi .
    Tessa shivered.
    “What’s the matter?” asked Opal, looking at her.
    “I—I don’t know.” Tessa blinked, breaking her gaze from the unicorn’s eyes with an effort. “I feel kind of funny when I look at it.”
    “Probably the dust. Maybe you’re allergic.”
    “Maybe,” said Tessa. But she knew very well she’d shaken out and aired the tapestry. No. It wasn’t any antique mold or mildew that was messing with her head. It was the unicorn itself. “What do you know about unicorns?” she asked Opal.
    Opal tilted her head. “Let’s see. Shy, imaginary creatures. Pointy headgear. Perennial favorite on the merry-go-round—”
    “Ha-ha,” Tessa replied. She hesitated, then asked, “Definitely not scary, right?”
    Opal shook her head. “No scary unicorns.” She pointed. “Except for that one.”
    Tessa looked again. It did look a little frightening, maybe because it seemed so real. As if the muscular forelegs could thrash through the air and the unicorn might leap forward at any moment. From the expression in its eyes to its defiant stance, the unicorn looked as if it was trying to tear itself free from some invisible restraint. “Does it look real to you?” Tessa asked.
    “I guess,” Opal replied.
    “Do me a favor,” said Tessa. She gave a nervous nod toward the tapestry. “Touch it.”
    “Touch it?”
    “The tapestry. The unicorn. Just touch it,” Tessa repeated. “Humor me, okay?”
    Opal shrugged, walked up to the tapestry and put her hand on it.
    “Feel it.”
    Opal gave Tessa a dubious look and then rubbed her hands all over the surface. “Ooh,” she crooned. “Needlepoint.”
    Tessa watched her. “Do you feel anything?”
    “Besides goofy? No.”
    Nothing had happened, Tessa realized. Opal hadn’t felt anything when she touched the tapestry. Neither had her father. It was only her. Why was it only her?
    “Can I stop with the touching already?” Opal asked.
    “Yeah. Sorry,” Tessa said. “I’m just—Never mind.” She sat down and fiddled with the laces on her sneakers. “Opal, do you believe in reincarnation or past lives, that kind of stuff?”
    Opal shrugged. “I dunno. I guess. Maybe.”
    “Do