Unreal City Read Online Free Page A

Lying came so easily when I wanted to avoid things. I didn’t expect her to pursue it, but she did.
    “Ooh, that’s really cool. Got any pictures you’ve taken on your laptop? I’d like to see some, if you don’t mind,” she requested with those dark, bright eyes fixed on me.
    I stared at her, wanting to refuse but feeling unable to quash her kindness. “Sure,” I acquiesced after a moment, opening up a folder and turning my computer around for her to consider. I clicked through some pictures I’d taken in Monterey of the beach and various images of sea life, swimsuit-clad vacationers, and sunsets. A sick feeling washed over me as a photo I had taken of Lea and Stephen at prom filled the screen.
    “Oh, you used to have long hair?” she asked amiably, and I hesitated before I shook my head, wondering how best to stop this conversation before it began. “Then—”
    “That’s my sister. We were twins.” Past tense. Why did I use past tense? Now a question even better than What’s your major? would come next. Joy stopped talking, her expression showing she was unsure how to voice her curiosity, so I decided to skip the awkwardness and cut to the chase.
    “She died a few months ago. She was murdered,” I said, hoping we could leave it there.
    Joy’s face darkened and she looked at me directly, trying to make eye contact. I refused to meet her gaze.
    “Sarah…I’m so sorry. I—I had no idea, if—if there’s anything I can do, or…I’m not sure if you wanna talk to someone about it, or…”
    Her words came from an authentic place of sympathy and caught me off-guard. I was so unaccustomed to anyone daring to breach the unspoken grief-code of complete avoidance of the topic that I was rendered vulnerable. And when I feel vulnerable, I almost always defer to anger.
    “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me,” I snapped, and Joy recoiled. Guilt gripped me seconds after I’d spoken, and I cast my eyes to the corner of the room, gripping my pant leg as I waited for the discomfort of the moment to pass.
    Joy’s head dropped a little. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to pry, or bring up bad memories…I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she apologized. Her kindness made me hate myself even more, and I felt my anger bubbling up again, like stomach acid rising in my throat.
    “‘Okay?’ Why do people always ask that stupid question? Like I’ll just wake up one day and everything will be back to normal?” My voice rose with every word, and the angrier and more embarrassed I got, the more I felt myself wanting to attack her verbally. “I’m never going to be okay again. Never. How dare—” I bit my tongue hard to stop myself, tears stinging at the corners of my eye.
    “I’m—I’m sorry, Joy, I—I’d better go. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” I grabbed my laptop, shoved it into my bag, and fled from her dorm room and across the courtyard, past some people strumming on a ukulele. Their carefree happiness made my stomach churn, and I pushed past a massive, crimson, abstract sculpture.
    Looking around for somewhere to go with my fury and shame still rising, I saw the trees at the edge of the meadow and bolted for them. I hated everything at that moment, but I urged myself to keep going. One foot. Then the other.
    I tried to keep from breaking into an all-out run, my heavy messenger bag slamming rhythmically into my thigh as I descended the sloping meadow. The morning wind had died down; the grass was dry from the heat of the September afternoon and the ground hard and dusty. I batted at bees buzzing in my ears as I drew closer to the line of trees. The air here was sharp and clear, but it smelled heavily of pine, fertilizer, and dry grass.
    I remember taking deep, heavy breaths of the layers of scents while crossing the brush of the meadow toward the trees. The closer I got to the edge of it, the more the sense of being drawn into the pines intensified. In there it was shady. It was