The Outsider Read Free Page A

and spilled ketchup all over myself.”
    She held up the broken bottle so everyone could see it.
    Then Liz looked straight at Max, her dark brown eyes melting with emotion. He felt his breath catch in his chest.
    â€œI’m okay,” she repeated.

2
    Liz couldn’t stop staring at Max. He gave her a tiny smile, a private smile meant only for her. What did you do to me? she thought. How . . .
    Her brain felt like it was humming, vibrating at a really low frequency. It was hard to think.
    The paramedic knelt down in front of Liz, blocking her view of Max. No! Liz thought, struggling to stand up. She needed to keep Max in sight right now. It made her feel . . . safer.
    Lying on the floor, she’d had the feeling of rushing away, being
forced
away from the cafe, from her father and Maria — from everything and everyone familiar. And somehow Max had brought her back.
    â€œDon’t try to move yet.” The paramedic grasped Liz firmly by the shoulders.
    Liz tried to focus on the story she was supposed to tell. She brushed her fingers across the front of her uniform, then held her hand up so the woman could see it. “It’s ketchup, just like I told you. I know it looks like blood, like a lot of blood. . . .”
    And there is blood
under
the ketchup, a lot of blood, she thought. I was bleeding to death. I was dying. A shiver rippled through Liz. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it didn’t help. She still felt cold.
    â€œI know it’s ketchup — I can smell it. I’m getting the urge for a big plate of fries,” the woman joked. She pulled out a tiny flashlight and shone it into Liz’s eyes. Then she took Liz’s wrist in her hand and checked her pulse.
    â€œIs she okay?” Mr. Ortecho asked. He was blinking superfast, the way he always did when he was about to lose it.
    Liz felt a rush of protectiveness for her father. He had been devastated when Rosa overdosed. For days after the funeral he had lain on the sofa covered by a red afghan — even though it was the middle of summer. And no matter how many times Liz had gone into the room, she’d always found him in exactly the same position.
    He must be terrified, she thought. I’m the only child he has left. She wished this had happened on his day off.
    â€œI’m fine, Papi,” she answered. She heard a tiny tremor in her voice, but she thought she’d done a good job of sounding normal. Except for the fact that she had called her father Papi. She hadn’t used that name since she was a little girl.
    â€œI didn’t ask you,” Papa snapped. “Are you a professional? No. You don’t know if you’re fine or not.”
    â€œI’m the professional, and I say she’s fine, too,” the woman answered. “I thought she might be in shock.
I’d
be in shock if someone shot at me. But she’s just fine.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at her partner. “Guess we should head out.”
    â€œThanks.” Liz pushed herself to her feet. Her father wrapped her in a hug so tight, her ribs hurt. “Let’s not tell Mama what happened, okay?” she whispered.
    â€œAre you kidding? There’s no way your mother’s radar would miss this. The second one of us walked in the house, she’d know something was wrong.” He gave a choked laugh as he released her.
    Liz scanned the cafe, searching for Max. She had to talk to him. She had to find out what he did to her. But he was gone. So was Michael.
    Max had sounded so intense when he asked her to lie for him, like it was something really critical. If anyone took a close look at the floor, they would know her ketchup story couldn’t be true. The spatters of blood on the tile floor looked bright red and shiny slick — not tomato red and clumpy.
    â€œ — I’d better mop up the ketchup. Someone is going to slip.” Liz rushed over to the corner and rolled the big