Painted Blind Read Free Page B

across the aisle and swiped the magazine from my desk then dropped it into an oversized purse she used as a backpack. “On the upside, you’ll be famous.”
    I grunted without meaning to. It was impossible for her to fathom how famous could be a bad thing.
    “What did your dad say?”
    “He rear-ended a Volvo and took away my car. Can I have a ride home after school?”
    “Of course ,” she replied before Mr. Darling called on her to read aloud from the overhead projector.
    I should have noticed the devious look on her face, but Mr. Darling caught my eye. He focused on me so intently, I wanted to ooze into the desktop. I slouched behind Rory the rest of the period.
    When the bell rang, I grabbed my books and darted out the door. The crowded hallway offered no refuge. A junior in a football jersey bumped against me and ran his hands down my sides before I could shy away. My pulse was racing and my peripheral vision took on dark clouds. I needed some air. Now.
    I reached my locker. Somehow my fingers turned the combination. I dropped my books inside, then turned toward the nearest exit, tucked my head and charged through the crowd. I shoved people aside as I went.
    Outside I gulped a saving breath, but it was too late. Halfway across the parking lot, pain exploded in my chest. Students streamed out of the building for lunch. I looked around for a place to hide.
    I ran to the neighboring strip mall. When I reached the sidewalk I slowed, then swerved into a sporting goods store. It was the middle of the day, but no one was at the front register. Behind the gun safes and hunting gear were the fitting rooms. I locked myself in one of the stalls and stood there clutching my stomach. Pain spread down my arm.
    The first time this happened I was thirteen and sitting next to Savannah at a basketball game. A few months later it happened at school. Mrs. Radcliff, the school counselor, called it a panic attack and assured me I wasn’t dying. I was sure she was wrong. The pain was so intense. It wasn’t in my head. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t feel my fingers.
    I wished and prayed for my dad to come and find me now, but he was too angry to care if I died in a mustard-yellow stall in the sporting goods store. I couldn’t risk the long walk home. Someone would recognize me as the slut from the billboard. I stood there shivering at my pathetic reflection in the mirror.
    I heard the scuff of shoes across the tiled floor. The door to the next stall creaked ever so slightly. I pressed my back into the corner and tried to quiet my pounding heart. I waited. The air grew perfectly still.
    I peeked down. No feet showed under the divider. My breath came in bursts. I inhaled slowly and tried to clear my mind. My pulse kept pounding, but the pain dulled.
    Satisfied that I was in control, I stepped up on the bench and looked over the divider. The stall was empty, but a slight aroma of cinnamon made me pause and look again. Something brushed my face. It was warm, like a caress.
    I yelped and stumbled. My foot slipped from the bench and sent me tumbling backward. My back smacked the opposite wall. I flailed and grabbed for a handhold, but there was nothing to break my fall. I landed on my butt on the tile, and my head bounced off the partition.
    I was alone. And going completely insane.

Chapter 3
    I didn’t attend any of my afternoon classes. When the bell rang to end the school day, I was sitting in Savannah’s car, trying to shake the feeling I was being watched.
    Half the parking lot was empty before Travis and Savannah left the school. As soon as they were out the door, he caught her by the arm and pulled her to his chest. Travis kissed her opened mouthed right there on the sidewalk.
    I looked away. I should have been happy for her. A better friend would have been. I was just so empty that joy for someone else’s happiness was hard to come by. Savannah had boyfriend after boyfriend since seventh grade, but not one guy had ever leaned