Beckoners Read Online Free Page B

a little silver backpack. She held the cigarettes in Zoe’s direction. “Want one?”
    Zoe shook her head and watched the three other girls vie for the privilege to light Heather’s cigarette. She recognized two of them from English, the ones Mrs. Henley had looked down her nose at.
    â€œYou seen the smoke hole yet?” Heather swept a slender arm in an arc. “This is the smoke hole.” She pointed her cigarette at the girls around the table. “That’s Lindsay, Janika, Jasvinder—we call her Jazz. And you know Beck.” Lindsay was the chunky blonde from class. Jazz was the one with the hair to her bum, although today it was in a messy knot at the nape of her neck. Janika was black, with a mass of thin braids held away from her heart-shaped face with a red bandana. Heather widened her eyes at Zoe. “Well, that about covers it. You can go now.”
    â€œRight,” Zoe muttered, turning to leave. “See ya.”
    â€œHang on.” Beck eyed Heather and patted the bench. “Have a seat. What’s your name again?”
    â€œZoe.” Zoe did not want to sit down. She’d only come into the hut so she could turn right back around and saunter out like she hadn’t found who she was looking for. But you don’t walk away from girls like this. You don’t turn your back on girls like this unless you’re prepared for them to slice you wide open, and not necessarily right away—girls like this were brilliant at simmering resentments. Zoe sat down.
    â€œWhat are you
doing
, Beck?” Heather tapped her ash off the edge of the concrete table.
    Beck ignored her. “So, where’re you from?”
    â€œPrince George.”
    â€œI don’t like her.” Heather narrowed her eyes at Zoe. She unfolded her legs and nudged Beck’s shoulder with her Paris knock-off wedge sandal. “I’m talking to you. I said I don’t like her. Get rid of her.”
    â€œI went to Prince George once.” Beck pushed Heather’s foot away. “Or we went through it, on the way to my aunt’s wedding in Terrace.” Then she said, “Hey, what would you’ve done if your mom hadn’t come the other day?”
    â€œKicked your head in,” Zoe blurted. Nobody laughed. Jazz, Lindsay and Janika all turned to Beck, waiting for a reaction.
    â€œOh, I am so sure.” Heather rolled her eyes.
    â€œKicked my head in?” Beck cocked her head to one side and sized Zoe up with a new respect. “Is that so?”
    No, that was not so. Zoe stifled a laugh. She glanced at Heather, who was sucking furiously on her cigarette.
    Like hell, Zoe would’ve kicked Beck’s head in. She was being funny. It’s called sarcasm. She used it a lot when she was nervous, and it had gotten her in trouble more than once. In real life, she would’ve run. She would’ve run as fast and as far as she could, with Cassy weighing her down.
    Zoe took a breath.
    â€œHow about you?” Always a good tactic, answer a question with a question. “What were you going to do?”
    â€œGod, spare us the encoded speech.” Heather stubbed out her cigarette.
    Still, Beck didn’t look at her. She pulled out her own cigarettes, lit one and then offered the pack to Zoe. “Want one?”
    â€œShe doesn’t smoke.” Heather scowled at Beck. “Were, or were you not here when I very nicely offered her one two minutes ago?”
    â€œI don’t smoke menthols,” Zoe said. She’d had enough of Heather’s almighty bullshit. Taking a cigarette from Beck would piss Heather off nicely. Retaliation could be so subtle.
    It was extremely important to take the cigarette from Beck anyway. It was as if they’d reached some kind of peace treaty that depended on it. Heather huffed dramatically as Zoe put the cigarette between her lips.
    Beck flipped open a pack of matches with an eight ball on the cover and