The Breathless by Tara Goedjen

Author:Tara Goedjen
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2017-10-10T04:00:00+00:00

“CAGE!” MAE HISSED, SHAKING HIM. He was sprawled in the brush, still lying on his side.

Her heart was fast in her chest, and she tried to remember what to do—she’d read about it after her granddad’s stroke. Clear the airway, start compressions, rescue breaths. He couldn’t be dead; she couldn’t have killed him.

She rolled him onto his back and put the heel of her hand on his chest, ready to push, and then all of a sudden she felt his ribs lift. She gasped, her heart thudding hard.

“Can you hear me, Cage?”

His lids were fluttering open. She could see the whites of his eyes, his face in a grimace. “Ro?” he asked. Now he was looking over her shoulder, staring so intently that she felt a chill.

Mae whirled, saw a cluster of trees in the moonlight. When she glanced back, his gaze was on her. “Did you—did you punch me?” He sounded dazed. A welt was swelling above his temple.

“Not exactly.”

He rubbed his head and sat up, slowly, like he might pass out again.

“What happened?” he asked.

She decided to go with the truth, even though she felt embarrassed now, as if she owed him an apology. But it wasn’t all her fault—and she still didn’t know what he’d done. She kept her knife close, staying alert.

“I warned you to keep back, but you didn’t listen.”

“My mother says I have that problem.” He tried to stand and swayed instead. Mae scrambled to her feet, wanting to keep her advantage.

“Well, now you’ve got a lot more.” Her voice came out sharp and she watched for a reaction.

But Cage didn’t seem defensive or on edge, or the least bit concerned about the frayed rope hanging beside them. He leaned against a tree for support and sighed out a breath through his teeth. “Mae, I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me about that.” She pulled the flashlight from her bag and pointed it at the rope.

“What about it?” He glanced at it, and then back at her. A trickle of blood was running down his face. “What’s it for?”

He seemed genuinely confused. She beamed the light at his body and stared at him without saying anything, letting the quiet of the woods grow between them. Still looking dazed, he picked up the edge of his T-shirt and wiped the blood at his temple, the muscles in his arm flickering in the light. Nothing in his stance made him seem guilty. He looked baffled more than anything, and wary of her, and another seed of doubt worked its way into her heart.

She flicked off the flashlight and stuck it into her back pocket, letting her eyes adjust again. Maybe he hadn’t hanged the cat. Maybe she’d guessed wrong. There were so many questions to ask—but it’d be smart to get inside first.

“Barn,” she said. “Now.”

He nodded, and she gestured for him to lead, her hand on the knife in her pocket. A minute later they were walking up the hill, the moon lighting their path. The back of his shirt was dirty, and so were his jeans.

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