Warped (Maurissa Guibord) Read Free

dazed. Besides their car, the parking lot was now empty. Evening was coming; it was getting cold. And dark. Beyond the edge of the building came the familiar sound of peeper frogs out in the woods. They sounded unnaturally loud. But even louder was the drumming of her heart. She glanced down, almost expecting to see its outline pushing from her chest, like in an animated cartoon.
    Her father came up behind her. His shoes crunched in the gravel. "Did you say something?"
    "Did I?" She hadn't spoken aloud, had she? She'd only heard something. That weird voice. Those words. "Something just came to me," Tessa answered slowly. "Part of a poem, maybe."
    She raised a hand to swipe the corner of her eye. It was moist. She was crying? She turned to her father, tucking herself under his shoulder and hugging him tight. His stocky bulk felt warm and comforting.
    He didn't let go but drew back a bit to regard her. Her father had gray eyes that might have been icy in color but were too bright and wondering to be anything but warm. "What's the matter, honey? Are you okay? You look kind of pale."
    Tessa nodded. "I'm fine. I just got dizzy for a second." She felt silly now and loosened her hold on her father's waist to straighten up. What had just happened, anyway?
    "You're probably hungry," her father said with a confident nod. He believed in feeding a cold, a fever and pretty much anything else. He ruffled her hair. "Let's get you home."
    "Yeah, I guess so," Tessa replied uncertainly.
    She stayed quiet during the ride, her forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window, her eyes unfocused on the blur of trees and road passing by.
    Through warp and weft, I bind thee .
    Tessa remembered the words she'd heard in the blackness. She hadn't been exactly truthful with her father. For one thing, she couldn't remember ever reading a poem like that in her whole life. And for another, she wasn't fine. She couldn't understand why those words should terrify her.
    But they did.

Chapter 2

By the time they got back home, Tessa felt better. Her father told her not to worry about the boxes, he'd bring them in later, and Tessa didn't argue. From the push to get the front door open (it always stuck when it rained) to the jingle of the brass bell and the comfortable squish of her favorite armchair in the corner, everything felt normal again. Brody's Bookstore was home. Tessa closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
    The scent of the little balsam-stuffed pillow stitched with the words "Don't Make Me Shush You" mingled with the fresh coffee Mrs. Petoskey, the part-time cashier, had brewing behind the register. Tessa sprawled back into the lumpy seat cushions and tried to forget about the weirdness at the auction house. Too much caffeine, she thought, or maybe the dust from all those old books, had caused some kind of short circuit in her brain. An allergic reaction, she decided. With special effects.
    It was almost closing time, but there were still a few customers browsing in the store. Tessa noticed a little blond girl wearing a denim jumper walking slowly down the middle aisle. Heel-toe-heel-toe. Heel--The girl looked up and caught Tessa watching her.
    "I like the creaky sound," she said, rocking back and forth on the dark, gleaming floorboards.
    Tessa smiled. "Me too." She pointed out a worn spot in front of Mystery and Suspense. "There's a good one over there," she said.
    The girl nodded, tugged on her ponytail and went to investigate. A tall woman carrying an armful of books peered out from the children's nook. She had blond hair too. "Sloane?" she called. Catching sight of the little girl, she hurried over. "Look what I found! About a mouse and a motorcycle. Should we read this one tonight?" She bent down close to the little girl and showed her the pictures. The two of them laughed.
    Watching them, Tessa felt a familiar ache in her chest. Like a punch, only from the inside. She stood. "Dad," she called. "I'm going upstairs." Her father looked up and nodded