Break Away (Away, Book 1) (12 page)

I looked at her with my eyebrow arched and
mouthed, “
Wicked Witch?
”

She swallowed and flushed a deep pink.

Second try, here we go.
I propped up
my arms on the corroded car’s roof and stared at him, sharpening my
eyes with determination. “Here’s the deal. There’s something odd
going on, and we think it might have something to do with this
reading outburst that seems to be spreading around school, which
brings us to you.” I gave a short nod. “I know all of this sounds
weird, and funny maybe, but it’ll be really helpful if you could
tell us what drives you to read so much.”

With the old scrap of metal between us,
hiding more than a half of his lanky frame, watching his feet
wasn’t visually possible. But I knew the question had made him
uncomfortable, and that he was shifting the weight on his feet back
and forth. “Sorry, but last time I checked reading wasn’t something
weird. Maybe it is to people who’ve never picked up a book in their
life.” He pulled up his eyebrows and looked away.

And he’d felt attacked, too. “Wait, I didn’t
mean it like that—what’s your name?”

“Daniel—Dan.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Dan. I just…”
Why was this so hard to explain? Ugh.
Maybe because it does
sounds kind of stupid, Dafne.

This time, Linda came to the rescue. “Okay,
we got off on the wrong foot with this.” She held up her splayed
hands. “We tried to do this undercover but…it’s not working,
Dafne.” She glanced at me, pressing her lips tightly. I shot her a
puzzled look. “See, we have to write this article for a, uh, blog
site on the motivations behind reading. What propels a person to
read? What pushes people to a library?” she said, sounding like a
reporter on the verge of inspiration. “And you my friend have those
answers.”

“This is just for an article?” Dan narrowed
his eyes and looked at me, waiting for a confirmation.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. It just seemed more genuine
and spontaneous talking to you instead of doing an
interview—because, you know, the answers tend to be less open when
you’re under study.” I told him with a small smile and glimpsed at
Linda. She’d nailed it with this one. The fear and confusion and
edginess weren’t contorting Dan’s face anymore. He looked
reassured.

“Well, I…don’t know. I mean, I’ve always
loved to read, and I don’t really need a reason to do it, but I
guess it’s a cool way to escape from all the hassle and work and
stuff like that.” He shrugged and placed his hand on the corner of
the open door.

“But don’t you think it’s kind of too much to
bring a book to school and take it out whenever you have a chance
to breathe from classes? Isn’t that a bit obsessive?”

He frowned. “I don’t take it out whenever I
have the chance. These last two weeks there’s been a couple of book
releases I’ve been waiting for, and all of them have been so good
that it’s been really hard to put them down, but it doesn’t happen
all the time. It’s not that I’m obsessed or anything.”

“Oh, I totally get you,” Linda said, pressing
her hand to her chest. “That happened to me when I bought the first
two seasons of Prison Break last Christmas. Every time I stopped
watching it, all I could think of was how to sneak back to my room
and ponder the ways they could use to escape. It was so exciting
and frustrating.” She sighed.

I’d always thought Linda was a walking
anomaly of a writer. She loved spending time in front of her laptop
with her fingers glued on the keyboard, creating heart-racing
stories and dialoguing with characters in her mind. She breathed
the written word, but on its half extension. As much as she enjoyed
writing, she couldn’t bring herself to take pleasure in reading a
book, which was utterly paradoxical. What was the point in being a
writer if you didn’t like to read? It made no sense. She liked
watching TV and movies better than plucking a book from a
shelf.

But that didn’t interfere with her skills.
She had inherent talent. She was a natural. Her stories could make
one laugh, cry, gasp and sigh—a cocktail of emotions wrapped in a
cocoon of pages. I didn’t like to read either, but her flawless
mastery of words could turn even the worst literary agnostic into a
fervent devotee. She was that good.

And Dan seemed to think so, too. The shy
smile he was giving her and the deep look in his eyes said tons.
How interesting.

“Dan,” I said, getting an idea. “I need to do
some stuff for the article and Linda needs to be at her house in
time to pack her bags. Could you give her a ride? It’s not that far
from here.” I wasn’t going to get any information from him, anyway.
I would have to go and look for other resources on my own. Besides,
he was cute, in a shy-nice-smart cute way. He was perfect for
Linda, and why not start the heart healing process now? Why wait
until she got on board of that hulking pleasure-bent ship?

“What?” She snapped her head back to look at
me. “You don’t have to go any—I mean, I promised I would go with
you to do that stuff, remember?”

“No, I don’t.” I said, smiling inwardly. She
was so going to kill me. “But it’s okay, I’ll go alone. You’re
leaving tonight for Florida. You should get ready.”

“I can give you a ride,” Dan said, scratching
the back of his head bashfully, the brown curls foaming beneath his
fingers and kicking his cuteness up a notch. His hair was adorable,
silky and untamed. “I really don’t mind,” he added, looking at
Linda from under his eyelashes.

“I…uh,” she glanced at me and widened her
eyes, as if demanding I do something.

“Really, I don’t have to be anywhere,” he
insisted. Maybe he liked the idea of driving Linda home more than I
did.

I swallowed back a smile.

“I…okay,” she said finally and glimpsed at me
with fire in her eyes. I knew she couldn’t turn him down. Dan’s
expectant face was too sweet, and she couldn’t fight sweet. Her
heart was downright tender.

He flashed a charming smile and circled
around the car to open the door for Linda. He faltered a little
when he got near her, but pulled it open after clearing his throat.
It was like watching two people at their first date, only that one
of them wasn’t entirely aware of what was going on.

“Um, thanks,” she told him, staggered,
certainly because of the chivalrous manners Dan was showing. And
she wasn’t the only one. Secretly, deep down inside, that gesture
had warmed my stomach, as if mild honey of a golden sunny color had
been poured down in it. Yearning blossomed in me, and for a few
heartbeats, I wished I could be the one being treated that
gently.

“Thanks,” I said as he snapped the door shut.
I was starting to like this guy a lot.

“No problem.” He shrugged and smiled. “Good
luck with the stuff for the article. Oh, and have a nice spring
break,” he said with a small wave of his hand and headed to the
driver’s door.

I reached Linda’s window, which was already
rolled down, bent forward quickly and found her fuming face.
“
What are you
…”

I pressed my finger to her lips. “Shh, just
listen. I need you to talk to him and see if you can find out
something. He’ll open up more if he’s with a friend. It’s only for
a few minutes.” I pitched my voice to a lower tone as he slipped
next to her. I bent closer. “Please, it’ll be of great help. If you
wanted to do something before leaving to Florida, this is your
chance.” I pulled back and stared down at her.

The tightness in her eyes loosened. “I’ll
talk to you later.” She said over the purr of the engine. And with
that, I knew I’d been forgiven.

The old scrappy car eased back, turned to the
left, and rushed out of the parking lot.
Mission
accomplished.
I sighed
.
Though a second later a pang of
worry squeezed my stomach. I hoped the vintage look of Dan’s
four-wheeled machine wasn’t that “vintage” on safety. It looked
pretty sturdy, but one couldn’t stop feeling distrustful about its
shielding abilities on the road.

Oh, God, I was acting like Linda, worrying
over everything like a Mom. I shook my head and stepped inside the
Mini. Or should I have called it Mini-sauna? It felt as if a stream
of molten lava was running underneath. I could barely breathe. My
nostrils almost burned from the hot air trying to pass through my
tightened throat. I pushed the keys into the ignition and sparked
the car to life. I shoved my hand to the air conditioner button and
stopped midway, remembering Linda’s slap on my wrist last summer
for turning it on right away. Apparently, the car’s dashboard and
seats emit a carcinogen toxin called Benden-whatever that boosted
up whenever a car was parked under the sun—especially under a
skin-melting sun like this one—with windows closed for a long time.
It exposed one’s body to deadly diseases. Linda said it was better
not to risk it, that the air conditioner could wait a couple of
minutes. And I remembered how badly I’d wanted to kill her for
putting me under such sweltering sufferance.

But it’d worked in the end. The warning was
seeded in my subconscious now.

As I opened the front windows with sweat
snaking down my temples, I made a mental note about killing Linda
for real this time for telling me these things. Images of dry
deserts and torrid safaris steamed through my mind. In that moment,
Africa didn’t seem so far away.

I pulled out from the sizzling parking lot,
letting the balmy breeze blow on the droplets dotting the top of my
forehead, and thrust the Mini onto the road that would lead me to
my first stop: the Campus library. Though I didn’t like going to
the West side of this town (where that preppy university was), that
library held valuable information for this crazy search I’d
embarked on.

I already knew there was something going on
in my high school, but now I needed to know if there was something
going on with college students as well.

Of course, if I’d known I would have to walk
miles
—
at least it’d felt like that
—
to get to the
freaking library with the giant orb of searing light in the
heavens, I would’ve thought it twice. Crazy search be damned. The
streets had been crowded with cars, as if narrow trains of
mismatched wagons of different polished colors were bordering the
pavement. There hadn’t been a single space to park nearby, so I’d
driven around in circles, waiting like a hawk to snatch the first
empty spot my eyes caught. I’d been searching, hoping, and rolling
by small foreign restaurants and coffee shops with colorful doodles
on the windows and apartment buildings, until a lonely alley behind
an Indian market had provided me some space.

And now I was walking with this black shirt,
soaking up all the sunlight and thinking insulation might be in my
near future.

Really, didn’t people study here? They were
all out, wearing flip-flops, shorts, and nearly eighty percent of
them sporting the university’s logo.

Why don’t you all use a uniform instead?
Jeez.
It was the last day of classes before break, though, so I
guessed the not-studying part was understandable. And a sunny day
like this, after months of bone-chilling cold weather, excited
everyone—almost everyone. To me, this sun was way out of bounds,
and the weather way too crazy.

Once I stepped into the library, through the
cool glass façade, I had to restrain myself from kissing the floor.
It was like finding a heavenly oasis in the middle of the Sahara,
only with dry scents of worn-out pages and rich wood, like a log
cabin in winter. I paused for a moment, enjoying the coolness
indoors, and watched with wonder the wide staircase leading to a
brightly lit second floor. I walked to the desk on the left and
found a bosomy woman in her mid-thirties behind it. She was wearing
a white polo shirt, a rather tacky flower scarf around her neck—oh,
Buffy would’ve loved this one—and some retro cat eye glasses.

“Hello, dear.” She glanced at me, unstitching
her small round eyes from the computer. “How can I help you?”

Here we go again.

“I was wondering if you could help me with
some research I’m doing for an article.”

“Sure. What is it about? We have a great
collection of books in every…”

“Uh, no.” I cut her off with a polite smile.
“I'm not looking for books. I just need to ask you some questions.
Is that okay?”

“Oh, then, go ahead. You’re lucky this isn’t
a crazy day. The last few have been quite a…phenomenon.” She shook
her head in amazement. “It surely has been an interesting
week.”

I frowned. Maybe I didn’t need to go out of
my way to find what I needed. Though finding information this easy
kicked up my guts to Happy Land, my heart plummeted to the dark,
shivery grounds of Dread Land. If things had gotten too obvious,
then the eye of the storm was near. “A phenomenon?” I asked,
pressing my palms against the rounded edge of the wooden table.
Expectation and worry tightened my stomach.

“Yes, normally around this week—you know, for
midterms—we get students looking for all kinds of textbooks, and a
small part still looks for fiction lit, but this year…” She shook
her head again, her bun loosening from the chopsticks holding it.
“You have to see this.” She beckoned me to follow and led me to the
fiction section a few feet away. I’d expected to see people reading
around the tables on the way, but it’d all remained as a mental
picture. A good sign.

When we got there, however, I stopped with
widened eyes. I didn’t know if the shelves always looked like this
or if the sight was meant to be revealing. I moved into another
hall, and then the next and the surprise increased. It was, indeed,
meant to be revealing. I spun and looked at the bosomy woman.

“This is the new books section,” she held up
her arms, glancing at the shelves around us.

The word ‘vacant’ pounded in my head. “Where
are the books?” The shelves in this section were practically empty.
Bare slabs of wood greeted us.