Blood on My Hands Read Free Page B

picking fights. But unlike some bullies, who picked fights only with kids they knew they could beat, Katherine seemed to have this need to create confrontations even when the outcome was uncertain.
    I could have reacted to what she’d said about Slade, could have gotten angry or more defensive, even argued. I think Katherine actually liked it better when you fought back than when you meekly obeyed her, the way Mia always did. But instead, I decided to try a strategy based on something my father used to say: A good offense is the best defense .
    “Tell me, Katherine, have you ever been in love?” I asked.
    Dakota and Jodie froze like meerkats on TV. Katherine conjured up a haughty “Ha!” but after that, the kitchen fell uncomfortably quiet again. I was tempted to push Katherine on the question—after all, “ha” didn’t exactly qualify as an answer—but I sensed I’d gone far enough. I’d stood up to the queen and silenced her.
    Katherine glanced around and her gaze stopped at a block of wood containing a set of kitchen knives. Her hand closed around the largest handle and she drew out a long, heavy-looking blade and held it in my direction for a moment in a way that could have been either innocent or threatening. The mood in the kitchen was ominous. Even though what Katherine was doing was a teasing gesture, there was something menacing about it.
    Staring at the knife, I noticed the design on the side of the blade—two tiny white stick figures against a square red background.
    Katherine turned toward me. Dakota and Jodie could see what she was doing, but they couldn’t see her expression change from a chatty smile to an intensely unamused glare. Suddenly she jabbed the knife forward, not nearly enough to reach me, but enough to make me jump back.
    “Aaah!” Jodie gasped, as if she really thought Katherine was going to stab me.
    Katherine turned and smiled at her. “You didn’t think I’d do it, did you?”
    A nervous grin appeared on Jodie’s face, while Dakota’s remained a mask. Katherine slid the knife back into the block and gazed at me again, nodding slightly. I couldn’t help interpreting the act as a serious warning not to overstep my boundaries.

Chapter 6
    Sunday 12:34 A.M.
    CAN I BRING myself to call Slade now, after what I did to him? And I did it in the worst possible way and at the worst possible time. He was at National Guard training camp, far from home, his friends, and family. Farther away than he’d ever gone alone.
    For the first two months he’d been allowed only one three-minute phone call—to tell his dad he’d made it to the training camp safely. After that, he was allowed to speak to me once a week. He’d confide about how lonely and miserable he was, about how scared he was of being called up for active duty and sent overseas, and about how much he regretted signing up for the guard in the first place. These were things he never could have admitted to anyone else. But he could say them to me, because he trusted me. At least, until I betrayed him.
    Pangs of regret surge through me, but they’re nothing new. I’ve been feeling them ever since we broke up. Slade’s been home from Guard training for nearly a week. I’ve seen his pickup at the new town center. He’s working there with his father to get everything ready for the opening celebration. I’ve been so tempted to call and tell him how sorry I am. But how would I answer when he asked the inevitable question: why did I do it?
    How could I tell him? How can I face him?
    He’d be completely entitled to tell me to go to hell. After all, that was basically what I did when he was alone and needy.
    And yet I don’t think he will. He’s a better person than that.
    I call. As it rings, I feel myself growing tense and my heart revving up. Then that strange mixture of disappointment and relief when I get his answering message. I swallow and begin: “Slade, please call me. It’s urgent, a matter of life and death. I