The Cemetery Boys Read Online Free Page B

carpet. Inside, I was kicking myself.
    â€œSounds about right. Everybody who leaves comes back in the end. What are your thoughts on Spencer so far?”
    For a moment, she seemed slightly guarded, waiting for my response. I couldn’t tell if she wanted me to say I hated it or I liked it. I decided to be honest. They say the truth will set you free.
    And nothing good had ever come my way on the heels of a lie.
    â€œFrom what I’ve seen so far, it kind of sucks.” She winced and I shrugged. Maybe that wasn’t the right answer. But if she was sacrificing goats in her free time, did I really care about her opinion of me so much? “No offense.”
    She shrugged, too, and then nodded. If anything, she looked a little relieved to hear me say it. “None taken. I’m not the mayor. Hell, Spencer isn’t even big enough to have a mayor. Just some stupid council. Where are you from, anyway? And how did you get stuck here?”
    â€œI’m from Denver. And how I got stuck here is a long story, ending with my dad losing his job and my mom . . . well, staying behind, at least for now.” I wasn’t sure why I was telling her all this, especially outside her house in the dark, when we’d only just met. I just knew that I wanted to tell her whatever she wanted to hear about me. About anything.
    She furrowed her brow sympathetically, and as my attention dropped briefly to her lips, I wondered where her dad was. I didn’t dare ask. It seemed pushy to me, and I didn’t want to push her. I wanted to kiss her. But only once we’d figured out that whole goat-sacrifice thing. “Can I tell your future?” she said.
    â€œWell, I can, but only through the next school year. Itinvolves too many chores, not having my own car, and a C average, at best.”
    She flashed me a look that said she acknowledged what a smart-ass I could be, then held up a stack of Tarot cards. The edges of the cards were worn, softened with age and use. She said, “I meant with these.”
    I slipped my thumbs into my front jeans pockets and nodded, keeping a straight face. “Oh cool, the devil’s instruments.”
    With a groan, she led me up onto the porch, where she knelt and then arranged her legs in a crisscross position. When I was in the second grade, my teacher, Mrs. Davis, told us this way of sitting was called crisscross applesauce. Mrs. Davis was obviously stupid.
    The wooden planks that made up the porch were old to the point of dilapidation. It looked like they’d been painted a light-blue color once, but most of that had worn or peeled away with time and neglect. I could still see bits of the color on the edges of the porch, a hint at what a nice home this might have been, once upon a time.
    I sat on my knees facing Cara and she handed me the deck. The cards were warm in my hands. Cara’s warmth. Or maybe the fires of hell. I’d have to check with Martha to be certain. “Shuffle these and then cut them as much as you feel like.”
    I did as instructed, then handed the deck back to her.Our fingers touched briefly, and I could have sworn I felt an electrical charge spark between us. But maybe that was just static. She took three cards from the top of the deck and laid them out side by side in front of her. “These three cards, from left to right, represent your past, your present, and your future. Got it?”
    â€œGot it.” I examined the cards. One looked like the grim reaper. The next looked like some kind of hairy demon. And the third looked like a mass suicide. I wasn’t exactly filled with hope. “I’ll be honest. Things look bleak.”
    Cara shook her head, a light smile dancing on her lips. “Things aren’t always as they seem.”
    Our eyes met, and this time, for a too-brief moment, something definitely passed between us. I wasn’t sure what it was, just that it was .
    After our gaze broke, Cara went back to the