Beckoners Read Online Free Page A

the stairs, taking two steps for her one.
    â€œWhy’d she take off?”
    â€œLady Heather slit her wrists again.”
    â€œWhat?” Zoe stopped. “Who did
what
?”
    â€œHeather Arlington-Moore, best friend of Beck, better known in some circles as Central’s suicide queen. She had another one of her...how should I put it?” He made quotations with his fingers. “Episodes.” He continued down the stairs backwards, perfectly poised as the crowd jostled past him. “She’s all right though. She does this all the time. I’ve told her how to do it properly, but I suppose that’s not what she’s really after.”
    â€œWhat’s she really after?”
    â€œOh, who knows what goes on in that pretty little head of hers? She does this every once and a while. It’s never really serious.”
    Never really serious? Was
he
serious? Zoe followed Simon to the science wing and into a dim lab at the end of the hall. Mr. Turner, a loafers-and-polyester man who fiddled obsessively with his moustache, hung around just long enough to take attendance and make sure everyone signed for their textbook. That done, he left the room without a word.
    â€œHe won’t be back.” Simon checked his watch. “Time for his mid-morning gin and tonic.” He stood. “Coming?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œI don’t know. Smoke hole? Corner store? Home?”
    Zoe watched the majority of the class gather their books and leave. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œSuit yourself.” Simon hitched his pack on his shoulder and left too. Zoe stayed, along with a couple other bewildered new students too nervous to leave and two geeks who were already digging into their textbooks, highlighters in hand. Zoe spent the hour writing in her diary, speculating on what exactly might be the correct way to slit your wrists.

the beckoners
    Zoe met Central’s suicide queen on the second day of school when Simon dragged Zoe out to the smoke hole at lunch. Halfway across the parking lot he stopped mid-stride, opening his arms to the crowd gathered under the trees and around the makeshift hut.
    â€œYou’ve got your skids, your punks, pushers, users, Goths, slags, geeks, hippies, rejects and other standard garden variety misfits— the ones that smoke, at least.” He sighed. “Home sweet home.”
    And then he abandoned her there, out in the open to fend for herself, exposed, every sullen smoker giving her the loadedeye, while he went off to smoke hash in the ravine with his boyfriend, Teo, who just happened to be the most beautiful creature Zoe had ever laid her eyes on. His eyes were dark green, his skin the color of strong tea, muscles humming all over the place, and a walk that absolutely demanded you stare at his ass.
    Zoe was distracted for the moment, watching the two of them approach the trail. They were an odd couple: Simon’s frenetic gait beside Teo’s calm, confident stride.
    Zoe could’ve turned back to the school then, but that would’ve been tantamount to falling to her knees and screaming, “I’m not worthy!” Hell, she had as much right to be there as anyone else. She took a moment to square her shoulders and then walked confidently forward, as if she knew exactly where she was going, meeting the eyes of every waster who took the time and energy to stare at her.
    Beck was sitting at the end table in the hut with a bunch of girls surrounding a supermodel wannabe perched cross-legged on the table, long legs tucked under her, mascara running in two neat black lines down her cheeks. That would be Heather, judging by Simon’s description. She tucked a long strawberry blonde curl behind her ear and looked up.
    â€œYeah?” She managed perfect snob pitch, despite the tears. “What?”
    â€œThat’s the girl, from yesterday,” Beck said.
    â€œOh.” Heather pulled a pack of menthol slims out of