The Gardener by Bodeen S. A

Author:Bodeen, S. A. [Bodeen, S. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9781429947732
Google: qDDezDMvSlsC
Amazon: B005SN4V6I
Barnesnoble: B005SN4V6I
Goodreads: 7173435
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2010-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

TEN

DR. EMERSON SEEMED TO GET AHOLD OF HERSELF, BECAUSE after she finished her sentence, she quickly turned to the lady in blue and said something. Then the lady turned to the audience and said, “I’d like to thank you all for coming. That will conclude our program. The author will autograph your books at the front.”

The girl shifted in her chair and I turned her way. “Did you see the way she looked at you? It was almost like…” My hand covered my mouth. Was it possible? It made sense. Why else would the author have been so stunned? “It was like she recognized you.”

She didn’t answer.

I noticed the girl seemed to be weaker. She just seemed less than she was before we got to Powell’s. “Are you okay?”

She turned sideways in the chair and put her arm on the back, then lay her head down on it. “If I could just sit here for a little bit.”

“Yeah.” I looked up toward the front where people lined up with their books to get signed. That look on Dr. Emerson’s face was just too odd to not investigate further. “We’re gonna hang out and see if we can get a moment alone with the author.”

The line showed no signs of shortening anytime soon, so the girl and I went over to the couch by the butterfly book.

When the last book had been signed, Dr. Emerson gathered her things. She stood and looked around for a moment.

Was she looking for the girl?

I stood up.

She noticed me, then her gaze dropped to the girl. Dr. Emerson quickly shook hands with the lady in blue, glanced our way once more, then walked around the corner to the stairs.

I debated. As much as I wanted to speak to her, ask her about the girl, she certainly didn’t seem like she wanted to talk to us. Still, it was time to take a risk. “Come on.” I grabbed the girl’s hand.

We hurried down the stairs, just in time to see Dr. Emerson head into the second floor. We followed, turning the way she did, but she’d disappeared. A bright orange traffic cone sat in front of the men’s room with a big closed for cleaning sign on it, and from inside, I heard the click of a mop on the floor. Hoping that Dr. Emerson was the only occupant of the ladies’ room, I slid the cone over to block the entrance and pulled the girl inside.

The author stood at the sink, applying lipstick, and her hand froze midair as she saw us in the mirror. Her eyes locked on the girl. She turned around to face us. She fumbled with the lipstick, capping it and slipping it into the bag on her arm before moving toward us. “When I saw you in the audience, I…”

Not knowing exactly why, I stepped partly aside.

Her eyes narrowed as she moved closer to the girl, and her hands reached out.

The girl’s eyes moved to me as she took a slight step back.

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