The Bullet List (The Saving Bailey Trilogy, #1) Read Online Free Page A

me, curious as to why I have suddenly stopped.
    “You better hurry up if you want to make that twelve minute mark,” she says coaxingly.
    “I can make it,” I pant. “I can make it in half that time.”
    She raises her eyebrows. “If you plan on running it that fast you’d better get started.”
    “I’m in too much pain,” I sputter. “I hurt my feet last night.”
    She rolls her eyes. “Six minutes, Bailey, you got six minutes to run the mile or I’m giving you a zero.”
    “What! But that’s unfair, everyone else gets twelve!” I yell, outraged.
    She looks down at her timer and says, “It’s already been two minutes.”
    I grit my teeth against the pain and begin to run again. The rubber track eagerly accepts the beaten down soles of my sneakers. This is where I belong , I think. The track. I haven’t run competitively since the seventh grade, but running has been a long-standing passion of mine.
    When not at school, I run to the bus stop, to the store, to the park, and up the stairs. I’m always running from everything and to everything. Today is different, though. As I run I feel as if the skin on my feet is unraveling from the bone. I need to rest. I turn back to see if Mrs. Stewart is paying attention to me: she is, and she’s not the only one. A tall platinum-blond-haired boy is standing next to her watching the timer as the seconds tick by. He smiles and waves.
    His name is Trenton. I don’t know him personally, but like everybody else in the school, I know of him. I have paid close attention to his penetrating blue eyes, white picket fence smile, and pantherlike body. He is the hottest guy in school, possibly the hottest guy in all of Cape Coral. He makes Clad look like an ugly clown.
    I veer off the track and collapse in the grass. Mrs. Stewart and Trenton rush to my side.
    “Are you okay?” Trenton asks. “You sure were going fast.”
    I reach down and pull my shoes off, and am alarmed to see the bandages have all but peeled away. The long gashes, three on my right foot, and two on my left, have opened up, and are dripping blood on the grass.
    “Holy crap!” Trenton says, biting his knuckles.
    “I stepped in a pile of broken glass last night and sliced them up. It hurts so bad,” I manage to say before my voice is obscured by a surge of tears.
    Mrs. Stewart frowns. “I owe you an apology Sykes, I didn’t know.”
    “It’s okay.” I swallow back a sob.
    “You are the fastest runner I have ever seen,” she concedes. “Trenton, pick her up.”
    He bends down and effortlessly lifts me up. “Light as a feather,” he chuckles. “Don’t you ever eat?”
    Mrs. Stewart hands me my sneakers and gives a set of keys to Trenton.
    “I am trusting you,” she tells him. “These are the keys to my office. Get the first aid kit and help her bandage up, think you can do that?”
    He nods. “Sure thing boss. I’m on top of it.”
    Trenton pulls me in closer to his chest and carries me to the door. His chest rises up and down against the right side of my body, and I feel strangely at ease in his arms.
    “How much do you weigh?” he asks.
    “One hundred and four,” I say.
    “Wow, lightweight,” he hisses. “So, I understand how you hurt your feet, but what about the bruise?” he asks.
    “My mom hit me,” I say unabashedly.
    “That’s messed up,” he says, sounding genuinely upset.
    “How could anyone hit a pretty girl like you?” Trenton asks.
    I shrug. “I’d like to know the same thing.”
    He kicks open the door with his foot and for a minute I envision him as a firefighter kicking down the door of a burning building.
    The gym is empty. He finds a chair and puts me down, then goes to hunt for the first-aid kit. He sings a tune while he searches.
    “Found it,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Let’s fix you up now.”
    When he reaches for my foot, I grab his wrist. “It’s okay, I can do it,” I say self-consciously.
    “No, let me,” he insists, peeling my fingers