King 03 - Restless by Kandle Tawdra

Author:Kandle, Tawdra [Kandle, Tawdra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Retail, YA 14+
ISBN: 9781477619940
Google: ov5yMAEACAAJ
Amazon: 1477619941
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Hey, Tas. I don’t think I’ve told you how much I dream about you. I do. Every day I rush to get my homework done so I can go to sleep early. My roommate thinks I’m weird. But when I’m asleep, we’re together, and we’re happy. And you love me as much as I love you. Call me, Tas.

I drove home through the gray light of dusk, a rare lightness in my spirit. Usually I left my time with Marica somewhat exhausted and a little depressed. I wasn’t sure if it was using my powers that drained me or if it was that my lessons so completely took my mind off Michael and the rest of the mess that was my life these days.

Wistfully I imagined what I might be doing right now if Michael and I were still together. I would have been so eager to call and tell him about how I made the water dance. I wasn’t sure he’d understand the attraction and excitement of casting fire, but I thought he would like my water play. It felt so right and so positive.

I drove past the road that led to the Brooks’ home, and a small twinge of guilt struck my heart. I knew Rafe was hurting, but I’d let my anger shield me from feeling his pain too deeply. He wasn’t going to make the first move this time. If I didn’t do anything, neither would he. I faced an endless age of silent sulky lunchtimes with Amber desperately trying to put a happy face on everything.

I debated with myself the rest of the ride home: could I live with simply letting Rafe disappear from my life? In some ways, it would solve a lot of my problems. Amber would be relieved; so would my parents, I was sure. But the idea of hurting someone else, especially Rafe—no, I couldn’t do it. Not if I could avoid it.

My mother had dinner on the table when I got home. She smiled at me tentatively, and that guilt was back. My parents both walked on eggshells around me these days, never sure whether I was going to be a screeching banshee or a silent zombie. I really had to pull it together.

It was easier to be human tonight, with the sweet memory of the water play still fresh in my mind. I lingered at the dinner table, listening to my mother rave about her co-workers—apparently she really liked the job—and my dad talk about his plans for mulching in the garden over the weekend. When I had cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher (two chores I had abandoned weeks ago), I slipped into my room to face another round of reparations.

I dialed the number carefully, wondering if he’d even answer. After five rings, I was about to give up when I heard the slightest click and a very cautious voice.

“Yeah?”

I winced. There was a load of meaning in that one syllable, and none of it was good.

“Rafe. Hey, it’s me.

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