Equilibrium (Marauders #4.5) Read Online Free Page A

better than going back to school with my old classmates. I kept in contact with those I cared about, like the ones in the theater group I was in, The Green Kittens. In November they’d contacted me and asked me if I wanted to come back to rehearsals. If I didn’t want to stand on stage, I could help with other things—they just missed me. Which was really sweet of them, and I’d agreed. They’d been so awesome. Not much weirdness going on at all, and hardly any weird looks after the first rehearsal. In a room with just girls my own age, and one of my brothers or Dad guarding by the door, I felt safe and myself. Partly because I got to pretend to be someone else. Like I got to be myself, but inside another person. I liked it.
    It was Mitch who was going to take me to rehearsals that day, and we’d agreed that Dad would take me to the clubhouse, and then Mitch would pick me up there. I think it really was some elaborate plan from Mom and Dad to get me to socialize, but as long as those experiments were limited to the clubhouse and The Green Kittens, I wasn’t going to argue.
    I left my bag with Dad and went to the bar to get a cup of coffee. Roach was behind the bar with a dishcloth in one hand and a bottle of 409 in the other, which wasn’t the normal sight when it came to members. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever having seen one of them cleaning anything but their bikes. When he looked at me, I realized I was staring and turned my attention to the coffeemaker to pour myself a cup.
    He didn’t say anything, and from the corner of my eye I could see that he just kept rubbing the counter, which seemed a bit rude—that he didn’t even say hi. Then I realized I hadn’t actually said anything either. So I did.
    “Hi,” I said, with my eyes firmly on the spoon in my cup as I stirred. He didn’t answer, and I cleared my throat and said it a little louder. “Hi.”
    “Who are you talking to?” he asked.
    Well, duh! No one else was even close. “You.”
    “Then aim those baby blues at me, so I know that.”
    Slightly confused, I looked at him, and he was smiling while still rubbing at some stain no one but him would, like, even notice.
    “Hi,” he said with a courteous nod, almost a bow. “Want some cream with that coffee?”
    “No,” I answered and started stirring again before throwing the spoon in the suspiciously clean sink. He had probably scrubbed that, too, because it had never been shinier. “Why are you doing that?”
    He didn’t answer, and I knew why. I wasn’t looking at him, but I didn’t want that kind of contact with people anymore. Looking into their eyes created a connection that made me uneasy. It became personal, and it was easier to stay detached from people, conversations, and feelings while looking at inanimate objects. No one but the annoying… housemaid biker had ever called me out on it. Most pretended to not even notice. Like he’d said: there was a lot of pretending going on around me.
    I turned my eyes up, though, and he was still smiling with a cocked eyebrow. He wasn’t even pretending like he hadn’t heard me.
    “Why are you doing that?” I asked again. “I mean, you’re a member and all.”
    “I am. I’m also a member who likes to have coffee without the cup getting stuck to the bar. I don’t want to have to use a straw to be able to finish my morning coffee,” he said, and the mental image of a row of bikers drinking their coffee with a straw made me laugh. “The last straw, no pun intended, was when my graphic novel got stuck on it.”
    His eyes had been on mine until then, when he reached for something and held it up. I was relieved for the broken connection and looked at what he was holding in his hand.
    “Oh, I like that one.”
    “You’ve read Transmetropolitan?” he asked.
    “Yes, my brothers like stuff like that. Is that the look you’re going for?” I asked before I could stop myself.
    He didn’t look exactly like Spider Jerusalem, the main