Dead Radiance Read Online Free Page A

in telling her about Cherise and her malicious machinations. Ms. Custer's face tightened but she let it be.
    Tender garlic and herb-roasted chicken and butter-glazed carrots made it safely to the table. I went through the motions, pretending to eat under the stern supervision of my foster mother. Washing up was easier to do and I escaped the kitchen, both dishes and myself in one piece.
    A wide veranda hugged the front half of the house, dark and private, especially in the evenings. I surrendered to its comforting embrace. Enjoyed the thrill of having the porch swing to myself, reveled in the enveloping dark night and the sweet scent of Ms. Custer's pink climbing roses. I sat alone, enclosed in my little private world, with just the crickets and cicadas to vie for my attention.
    ***
    I stayed home, under doctor's orders to take things easy after the accident and the blow to my head. A week dragged by. A week in which I relished the chattering of leaves outside my window, as the wind frolicked through the thick branches of the red maple. A week I wanted to last forever. Not because the end of it meant I'd have to run the North Wood High gauntlet again, but because I'd lost my support. My strength. My only friend who I'd just let die, without doing a thing about it.
    The porch swing creaked, and I sighed, loving the silent, fragrant darkness. A fake haven where I remained invisible and the world walked by without knowing I watched. I should have seen Aimee's father walking his dog, trying to maintain a sense of normality after losing his only daughter. Should have seen Anna and Cherise slip into Anna's house and throw vicious stares at our house as if the building itself had taken their hunky quarterback from them. But all I saw were lonely pink petals falling and falling into nothingness.
    Until the black and chrome Ducati roared, loud and intrusive as it turned into our driveway.

 
    Chapter 5
     
    Biker-dude cut the engine and swung off the machine, his movement like a river of mercury. He strolled to the front door. Walk     wasn't the most appropriate word for the rolling gait he used to go from bike to door, but it did strange things to my heart and my breath. Deliciously nice things.
    I stared from the darkness, half a smile on my lips, one foot on the wooden deck so the swing didn't give me away with a random creak, holding my breath. He thumbed the doorbell and peeled off his helmet. Long black hair dripped over his forehead and caressed his nape. He fluffed the dark mop, not in the vain I-look-so-hot way, but in an unconscious get-out-of-my-face way.
    For the first time in my sad and predictably unlucky life, my heart lurched in my chest. All the soppy, mushy stuff was present: lightheartedness, breathless expectation, deep rosy blushes. Exactly the way girls fell for the male lead in chick flicks or the way the simpering heroines swooned in great romance novels.
    I barely heard the porch door squeak open. I even missed Ms. Custer saying, "Oh, it's you. Come in, come in!" He followed her inside and I waited while they talked. Crickets chirped, reminding me to get my head out of the clouds. A steady breeze tugged at the branches of our red oak and cooled my heated cheeks. I didn't dare enter the house. Or leave the veranda.
    I peered through the drapes as they talked in the living room. Though I strained to make sense of their conversation I got nothing but muffled sounds. When they shook hands and walked back toward the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank heaven. He was leaving.
    Ms. Custer let him out and shut the door behind him. I waited. He took the two porch stairs in a single stride and slung his leg over the bike. Right before he put his helmet on he turned and looked straight at me, through the darkened branches of the climbing rose, which should have hidden me from view.
    "It's rude to spy on people, you know?" He softened his words with a smile, teeth glittering even in the fading evening light. The