Omen Operation Read Free Page A

remind them, safe .
    The cushion of Gabriel’s hip bumped into Brooklyn’s as they ran. “You think I should move to L.A. after all this? I mean, that’s probably where all the best cosmetology schools are, huh?”
    Brooklyn nodded. “Yeah, that’s where I would start if I were you. You still sure about doing the hair and makeup thing? It’s a pretty cutthroat business.”
    Pretty green eyes rolled, and Gabriel swung her head back to laugh, long golden pony tail tapping her lower back as she trotted ahead.
    Sometimes Brooklyn forgot that cutthroat was Gabriel’s middle name.
    The morning went by like any other. The dining hall smelled like egg whites and protein pancakes, tangy grapefruits, and sugar-free maple syrup. They took the time during meals to make bets on which of them would hit their target first at mid-day firing practice. Then they chatted about the outside world, camp gossip, so on. At the end of breakfast, Julian popped the traditional question that they all took turns answering:
    “If you could be anywhere else, doing anything else, where would you be, and what would you be doing?”
    Dawson shrugged. “Probably eating real food.” He wrinkled his nose at the scraps on his plate. “Somewhere warm with someone pretty.”
    Gabriel smiled down at the table. “I’d be on a plane, drinking champagne, on my way to Paris for fashion week.”
    “Oh, that’s a good one,” Julian said.
    Porter hummed and drummed his fingers against a glass of guava juice. “In Aspen, snowboarding with my dad, drinking Irish coffee.”
    Everyone’s eyes turned to Brooklyn, and she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth.
    It was hard to focus on one place when so many were calling her name. The city streets of New York, the white sand beaches of Fiji, the distant Indonesian temples of Bali, they swarmed her thoughts and lit up like a fluorescent string of Christmas lights deep behind the rest of her thoughts.
    “I, uh, I mean, I don’t know,” she stammered. “I guess…” The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
    “Oh, come on, something has to sound good!” Gabriel said.
    Brooklyn sighed, shoulders slumping as she closed her eyes. “ Sushi ,” she moaned through a small laugh. “I want to be eating fresh sushi at a little bar in Tokyo.”
    Julian smiled wide and nodded in agreement. “Well, if you can’t make it to Japan, you’re always welcome at my mom’s place.” He leaned on the back legs of his chair. “She’s the best sushi chef in the city of angels, if you ask me.”
    “I always forget you live in L.A.,” Gabriel said. “I’ll have to find you and crash on your couch when I finally get up there for school.”
    “You’re more than welcome,” Julian said. “But only if you use me as your canvas and teach me how to make my own fake elf ears and shit.”
    Gabriel arched a brow. “Deal.”
    They practiced shooting after that, which Terry said was for their collective safety.
    “Everyone should know how to shoot a gun,” Brooklyn mocked, irritated and tired of the snap, thrust, and pull every time she tapped the trigger on the handgun that was assigned to her.
    Two hands pressed against her wrists and strong arms bracketed over her shoulders. “Like this.”
    Porter had constellations of moles dusted along his clavicle and up over his neck, little splatter marks that stained him from the sun. Brooklyn had a strange habit of trying to count them when he was close to her.
    “It’s a big gun,” he said, angling her hands and squeezing the top of her knuckles. “So it has a kick. That’s why you have to adjust your grip.”
    “Why’d she give me the Judge? I asked for the .22,” Brooklyn said, ignoring the press of Porter’s chest against her back.
    “I don’t know. But it’s not like you need a gun anyways.”
    Brooklyn could feel him smiling and pulled the trigger.
    The sound splintered the sky. Porter winced, bouncing on one foot as he pointed with his thumb toward