The West Wind Read Online Free Page A

and the puddle forming at his feet.  “I see you got caught
in the storm. I distinctly remember someone promising me it barely ever rains
here.”
“I said there were three hundred and fifteen days of sun. No one told me we
were moving to Camelot.”
    “The rain may never fall til after sundown?”
    “Apparently.”
    “Why didn’t you give me a call? I could have picked you up. Speak
of which, what time is it? I didn’t expect you to be home so soon. Was the
dance slow?”
    “Ah, no. It was great. At least for a moment. Hep Catz Alive was
there.”
    “Really? Here? Did you say hi to Carolyn for me?”
    “Sure,” Xander said noncommittally. “We danced once, then I danced
with this absolutely incredible girl.”
    “So you needed a cold shower?”
    Xander threw the Shelley at his dad. It missed and bounced off the
ladder to the floor.
    “Hey now, have some respect for a dead poet.”
    “Wouldn’t Shakespeare have said he was immortal?”
    “Not for long, if callous children are so careless with his
words.”
    An unused paint stirrer followed the book, missing by a much wider
margin as its flimsy shape spun to the floor. Zach laughed.
    “So tell me about this girl. What happened?”
    “I dropped her.”
    Zach’s eyes widened. Xander wasn’t a wild, thoughtless dancer who
made a habit of putting his partners in danger of being dropped. Zach himself
had never been as interested in dancing as his wife and son, but had learned
enough that he could spend an evening on the floor if Sara dragged him out.
    “How?” he asked.
    Xander paused, embarrassed, and dripped on the floor for a moment
before answering. “She slapped me.”
    His father’s eyebrows raised. There was definitely something
different going on tonight.
    “Did you deserve it?”
    “Ah, I understand why she did it, but no.” He told his dad what he
had said.
    Zach laughed. “I’m sorry, that’s not really funny.” He laughed
again. “You were trying to do the right thing. To be a gentleman. I think that
was one of those moments when actions would have spoken louder than words,
son.”
    “Yeah. I know. I wasn’t thinking.”
    “I hear that happens to teenage men.”
    “I’m running out of things to throw at you, Dad.”
    “You should probably go dry off, then. There’s probably enough
mildew in this house without you contributing to it,” his father said
playfully.
    “Goodnight, Dad.”
    “Goodnight, Xander.”
     
    Xander hauled himself up the stairs to the cupola room after
stripping down to his boxers and drying off in the bathroom. Towel wrapped
around his waist, he flipped on the light as he entered. He gritted his teeth
as it flickered before coming on. Replacing all the old cloth wrapped wiring in
the house was not one of the projects he was excited about. He stood for a
moment looking out the window at all the lights of the town. The city looked
like someone had taken a mirror out to reflect the night sky. Out to sea in the
dark, the green and red lights of a passing cargo ship flashed. On the island
in the bay, directly across from the Brighton House, one house was lit like a
palace. Emotionally drained and exhausted from a long day, Xander shrugged at
the opulence and threw the towel over the back of the lone chair in his room.
After digging his iPod and one of his favorite books, C.S. Lewis’ A Horse
and His Boy , out of his suitcase, he climbed into bed and opened up its
familiar pages. Live, his mother’s favorite band, blasted into his ears.

Haunted House
     
    The six friends sat and stood spread out around Jaimie’s living
room. Hero couldn’t drive home until the next low tide. It was inconvenient,
but those who owned homes on the island enjoyed the privacy and display of
wealth it took just to make it to and from the town proper. Hero often stayed
with Jaimie on nights when the boat wasn’t available and the tide was in.
     
    Jeremy poured himself a glass of whiskey from Jaimie’s parent’s
liquor cabinet