The Face Read Free

Aaron had pretty much returned to normal. Why was Adriana so much more troubled than they?
    Why had that night affected Adriana more than any of us?
    Of course, I couldn’t answer the question. I still had no memory of anything that had happened.
    But I was determined to learn the answers.
    So much to learn. So much.
    So many surprises in store.
    And then, the next afternoon, Adriana’s brother tried to kill me.

chapter 3
    I van Petrakis, Adriana’s older brother, looks so much like his sister, it’s scary.
    They both have black hair, sort of wavy, sort of curly. Both of them are tall and thin and graceful. Both have soft brown eyes under heavy, black eyebrows. Their faces are dramatic. They stand out in our class photos.
    Ivan adopted a new look this year. He had one ear pierced and wears a silver stud in it. And he let his sideburns grow long and grew a black goatee under his chin, which drives his parents crazy.
    He wears black T-shirts and black denims, which make him look kind of tough. Not like the other kids from North Hills, the wealthiest neighborhood in Shadyside.
    Lately, Ivan has been getting into trouble. At least, that’s the rumor I heard from some guys who used to hang out with him. They say that he’s messed up. That he’s been drinking at parties and hanging out with some bad-news kids from Waynesbridge.
    But I’ve always liked Ivan. Actually, I had a secret crush on him in third grade, and I don’t know if I ever got over it.
    When I ran into him at the Division Street Mall after school, I was glad to see him. “Hey—Ivan!” I called, rushing across the parking lot aisle. “What’s up?”
    He did an exaggerated reaction of surprise, throwing out his hands and nearly falling over backward. “Martha. Whoa. What did you buy? Anything to eat? Any Snickers bars? Milky Ways? I forgot to eat lunch.”
    I raised the two shopping bags I was carrying and motioned to the store behind me. “Just art supplies.”
    He groaned. “You still doodling?”
    â€œHey—!” I uttered a sharp cry. “I’m serious about my drawing, Ivan. It’s not doodling.”
    That struck him funny. He let out his usual laugh. Sort of a hooting sound that made his slender shoulders go up and down.
    â€œWhat are you doodling these days, Martha?”
    â€œShut up,” I replied.
    He hooted again. Scratched the tuft of fuzzy black hair under his chin. “Want a ride home?”
    â€œYeah. Sure.” I followed him to his red Civic. He sort of strutted as he walked. Like some kind of tall, stuck-up bird.
    One headlight on the car was cracked, the fender dented around it. “What happened, Ivan? An accident?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He pulled open the driver’s door and lowered his long body into the tiny car.
    I tossed my two bags into the backseat, then climbed in beside him. The car smelled of cigarette smoke. I saw candy wrappers all over the floor.
    This will give me a chance to talk about Adriana, I decided as Ivan backed out of the parking space. Maybe Ivan will have some ideas about how to help her.
    He guided the car to the exit, then pulled out onto Division Street. “Want to run away?” he asked suddenly.
    â€œExcuse me?” I turned to stare at him.
    â€œWant to drive off and just keep driving?” he asked, returning my stare with those intense brown eyes. “Never turn back? Just keep driving in a straight line till we can’t drive anymore?”
    I let out a short, uncertain laugh. “You’re joking—right?”
    His expression didn’t change.
    â€œYou don’t really want to run away—do you?” I demanded, feeling my chest tighten.
    He turned back to the windshield. “Whatever,” he murmured.
    He had to slam on the brakes to keep from plowing through a red light. We squealed to a stop in the middle of the crosswalk. The car behind