The Half Life of Molly Pierce Read Online Free Page B

appointment to continue my studies in assassin techniques and strategies. Luka and Erie are the only ones who know what it really is.
    I drink my coffee and wait for the inevitable visit from Clancy, who generally takes it upon himself to relieve me of my leftover lunch money in order to buy himself seconds of everything. Not long after he’s gone, the bell rings and I realize I have study hall next and I never did the English reading. I’ve forgotten the textbook somewhere in the backseat of my car, so I excuse myself from Luka and Erie and of course it’s drizzling outside now, out of nowhere, so I’m going to get soaked.
    I don’t have an umbrella and I don’t have time to get my coat from my locker so I have nothing to put over my head and as a result I get rain all in my hair and my face and my eyes and so everything is a little blurry and it takes me a minute before I see him, leaning against my car underneath a huge umbrella. I rub rain out of my eyes with the back of my hand, realizing too late that I’ve effectively smeared mascara all over my face.
    It’s Sayer Avery. He looks like he’s waiting for me, but he also looks like he was hoping I’d never come and now that I’m here he’s a little disappointed.
    “Hey, um . . . What are you doing here?” I say.
    He lifts the umbrella higher, steps away from the car, offers it to me.
    I duck under it without thinking. There’s plenty of room for both of us. It’s an enormous umbrella. A golf umbrella. Like a tarp on a stick.
    I’m really glad I didn’t say any of that out loud.
    “Hi, Molly,” he says.
    “What are you doing here?” I repeat.
    “I wanted to . . . thank you again. For everything you did for my brother. They told me you stayed with him. They told me no one else would go near him, but you stayed with him.” He seems genuine. I realize I have no idea how he could have found my car. There’s only one high school in Manchester, sure, but my car? He was leaning against my car. Not anybody else’s. I look at my car and then I look at him.
    “How did you know this is my car?”
    “They gave me a description. The EMTs. I wanted to find you,” he says without hesitation.
    “And you just thought you’d . . . wait for me? In the rain? Until I showed up?”
    His face changes. For a minute he is lost, confused, sad. Here he is, his brother just died and I’m treating him to a game of twenty questions.
    “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, backpedaling. “I don’t know why I can be so . . . Look, I’m just sorry. About everything. About your brother.”
    “I shouldn’t have shown up. It must look a little weird.”
    “It doesn’t look weird at all. Really, I’m . . . It doesn’t look weird.”
    He fidgets with something on the umbrella handle. It’s the little loop you can put around your wrist. He twists it around one finger. He twists it and untwists it. He looks like he wants to say something. He looks like he’s trying to find words that haven’t been invented yet. And I don’t know why but I want to be close to him. It’s like I didn’t even know he existed until yesterday but now that I do, I just want him to never leave again. I want to stay here in this parking lot with him forever. I want to freeze time. I want this rain, this umbrella, this moment—forever.
    “The funeral is Saturday,” he says after a long pause.
    “Oh,” I say.
    “I’d like you to go. I mean . . . I came here to see if you could go.”
    “Oh,” I say again. “Sure.”
    “We don’t know a lot of people here. My parents are dead. Not a lot of family left. I just . . . I don’t know, I thought it would be nice if you could come.”
    “I’m . . . Of course, Sayer. Of course I’ll go.”
    “Can I have your number?” he says, taking his phone from his pocket. “I’ll text you the information.”
    “Oh, sure,” I say. I give him my number. I’ll charge my phone tonight.
    “See you, Molly,” he says.
    And he’s gone.