Of Starlight Read Free Page B

purpose.”
    “To get under our skin,” said Megan.
    The dark matter spread across my palm and swallowed the other digits, disembodied fingertips shrinking to nothing. “It’s just weird.”
    “Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Megan lowered her head to peer out my window. “Check out the car, three o’clock.”
    I followed her gaze to a BMW that had just pulled up to a house. The passenger door opened, and a very drunk woman took a lurching step onto the curb, rolled her ankle in her heels, and collapsed onto the sidewalk, her tight dress riding up indecently. The guy swooped around and hauled her to her feet. She shoved at his arm and tried to get away from him, but her movements were feeble and uncoordinated. He held on tight and marched her straight to the door, glancing both ways before he pushed her inside.
    “That doesn’t look right,” I said.
    “She’s way too drunk,” said Megan.
    “And he’s completely sober.”
    “Anybody smell rapey rape?” she said.
    “Pull over, pull over,” I shouted, hurriedly stretching the sheen of dark matter down my arm. “We’re going in.”
    The squat chain link fence rattled in front of the house, even though nothing appeared to have disturbed it. Naked and invisible, Megan and I stole across the front yard. The nervous rush heightened my senses and amplified my pulse into a terrifying pounding. The night air electrified my skin.
    We reached the front door at the same time, and our invisible hands collided. From inside came the sound of a man’s voice.
    “Locked,” Megan whispered.
    What if we were too late?
    “Find a window.” I hurried around the side of the house, where a pair of windows opened over a row of trash bins. One was open a few inches. The screen behind hung in tatters, easy enough to break through.
    “That one,” I said, starting toward it.
    “Leona, where are you?” came Megan’s voice, still at the front door. Oops, I thought she’d been following me.
    “Over here!” I hissed, and waited.
    The weeds flattened right in front of me, just as a breeze rushed out of the night. Her body slammed into mine. We flew into the trash cans and scattered them like bowling pins, spilling trash into the side yard.
    “Ow! Watch where you’re going,” I said, untangling myself from her and rubbing my bruised limbs.
    “I was ,” she groaned. “You’re invisible.”
    “Shh.” I righted the trash can under the window and climbed on top, balancing a little. Carefully I hooked my fingers under the gap and gave a sharp tug. The window screeched the rest of the way open. I froze. Voices drifted out from the other room. One slurring and pathetic, one calm and creepy. I pushed in the bottom of the screen, tearing a flap loose from the frame. Wide enough for a person.
    The lights blazed on, and I saw I’d opened the window into the bathroom. In walked a well-groomed guy with chubby cheeks, khakis, and a cashmere sweater over a collared shirt. In his thirties, probably. The kind of guy who looked like the “safe” choice at a bar.
    Apparently, he was anything but safe.
    He unzipped his fly and kicked up the toilet seat. His urine stream missed the bowl entirely and sprayed on the floor before he pivoted it back and hit water. Ew . So gross.
    My blood simmered under my skin, but I stayed perfectly still, leaning on the windowsill. I wouldn’t ruin his night until I knew his intent for sure.
    He zipped up his fly and glanced over at the open window, the screen fluttering open. He reached out and crushed the window down on my fingers.
    I stifled my scream, and let out a tiny whimper instead. A bone-crushing throb lingered in my fingers, which felt like they had swollen to the size of baseballs. But at least they had kept the window from closing.
    The guy left the bathroom.
    I wiggled inside and backed up against the wall, panting. I now stood in a complete stranger’s house.
    “Megan, give me your hand,” I whispered out the window. Groping around, I found her