Call Out Read Online Free Page A

traumatic story, and the guy's quoting The Princess
Bride at me. Or maybe misquoting. I wasn’t sure. "Maybe a little
concerned," I quoted back at him.
    He smiled. "Jerry made it through just fine.
Didn't marry the girlfriend, though."
    I said the first thing that popped into my
head. "How did your brother manage to end up with a normal name
like Jerry?"
    It was London's turn to laugh. "It's short
for Jericho."
    I grimaced. "I'm sensing a theme."
    "Oh, yeah," London said. "Florence, Jericho,
London, and Holland. I got lucky."
    "Wow. And I thought being called 'Liz' was
bad."
    "Not 'Liz,' huh?"
    "Good God, no. Elizabeth. Or Morgan. If
that's still too long, it's Em. But never Liz, or Liza, or Libbie,
or Emmy, or...just about anything else anyone's ever come up
with."
    "Good to know."
    Brian made a small, amused sound, drawing my
attention. He smiled at me, and I finally got a hint of the man I
remembered. "That bloke on the boat," he explained.
    It took a moment for me to figure out what he
was talking about, but when I remembered, it surprised a laugh out
of me. "I'd forgotten about that. The creepy old guy who serenaded
me that one night. The one who kept calling me Lisa."
    We'd managed to clear the tension in the
room, at least.
    London stretched out on the bed. His hair
brushed the headboard, and there were only a couple of spare inches
at the foot. The guy really was freakishly tall. Not, like, Yao
Ming tall, but still.
    "Come on," he said, patting the bed beside
him. "It's still storytime."
    With a mental shrug, I kicked off my shoes
and crawled up onto the bed to sit with my back against the
headboard. London wiggled around to pillow his face against my
thigh. It should have been an uncomfortably intimate gesture coming
from someone I had just met, but this felt...different. It reminded
me of Dylan’s niece curling up on my lap during a scary movie. I
hesitated for just a second before reaching out to brush the hair
back from London’s face. For a moment he just lay there, eyes
closed. Then he scooted back to his own space, lying on his back
and staring up at the ceiling.
    "So, yeah. The whole thing with Jerry. His
girlfriend spread the story around school, the whole ring
premonition thing. I was already a geek, and now I was a freak,
too. I tried to pass it off as a coincidence, that I was just
trying to make Celia feel better. And the other kids bought it,
mostly. But one of my teachers knew it was bullshit. She'd seen the
signs before."
    "What signs?" I asked.
    London didn't answer. He just stared at the
ceiling, avoiding my eyes.
    "Signs of magic," Brian explained.
    "Magic?" I gave Brian my best 'are you
shitting me' expression.
    "I prefer psychokinesis," London said. "Makes
me sound like less of a crackpot."
    He had a point. Psychokinesis sounded a lot
more credible than magic.
    "So...you're like...a seer...or
something?"
    London sighed and sat up. "Something like
that. It's...more than that. And it's hard to define, or explain.
But I have certain natural abilities. After my teacher figured that
out, she convinced me to learn how to control it. That lasted right
up until one of the kids at school found out, and started rumors
about me trying to start a cult. I wanted to fit in more than I
wanted to learn to deal with my freaky powers."
    "I get that," I said, and I did. "But you did
learn a little, right? That's why you wanted me to bring something
of Dylan's, so you could...do whatever it is you do."
    "Yup."
    I scrambled off the bed and dragged the
garment bag out of my rolling case. London stepped up beside me
just as I pulled the dress out of the bag, but it was Brian who
reached out to touch the soft fabric.
    The pain in his eyes hit me like a fist to
the gut. I put my arm around him, and he hugged me to him.
    London grasped Brian's shoulder in what
seemed to be both more and less than a comforting gesture. He
reached his other hand toward the dress, and the second his fingers
brushed the fabric his knees