The Last Echo
Page 5
But that didn’t change the fact that she’d overslept.
“Sit down with me,” her mom said as Violet poured hot coffee into a travel mug.
“I can’t, Mom,” she answered hastily, reaching into the fridge to pull out the creamer. “If I don’t get going, I’ll be late.”
But her mom didn’t relent, and as Violet swirled the vanilla-flavored liquid into her mug, she saw her mom reach out and pat the stool beside her at the kitchen counter. “Don’t give me that. You can spare a minute.” When Violet opened her mouth to argue, her mom insisted, her voice leaving no wiggle room. “It wasn’t a request, Vi.”
Violet exhaled dramatically, but dropped her backpack and slouched onto the seat. “Happy now? What’s up?” she sighed, wondering if her parents had finally had enough of her sneaking in at all hours.
“Nothing really.” Her mom blew on her tea, steam drifting up lazily from the delicate teacup with pink and yellow rosebuds painted on it. But Violet wasn’t fooled by the cavalier attitude. Nothing was the last thing this was; otherwise she’d already be out the door and on her way to school. “I just wanted to check in. See how things are going. You’ve been working a lot lately and we haven’t seen much of you. Is it so strange that I’d want to know if everything’s all right?”
Violet flashed her mom a skeptical frown, and then grinned. “What’s the matter, Mom? Do you miss me?”
Her mom shot a humorless glance her way. “Of course I do. Does that really surprise you?” Then her lips curved into a wan smile—weak at best—and Violet realized she really was worried. “I just want to make sure Sara’s keeping up her end of our arrangement. That she’s keeping you safe.”
“Haven’t you asked her yourself when you’ve called to check in?” Violet didn’t see the point in pretending she didn’t know about the almost daily phone calls.
Her mom’s eyebrows lifted and she studied her daughter as she set her teacup down on the table. “Of course I’ve asked her, but now I’m asking you.”
They stared at each other for a long, strained moment, Violet thinking it should bother her that her parents were checking up on her. She was seventeen years old and deserved more freedom than that, didn’t she? But then she remembered what she’d done last night, in the warehouse. And she couldn’t help wondering if Sara had already told her mother.
Maybe her mom was right to be concerned.
“Everything’s okay,” Violet finally promised, smiling a little too eagerly, but feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. She resisted the urge to press her fingers against her temples. “There are a lot of people looking out for me, Sara included. They won’t let anything happen.”
Her mom’s gaze narrowed as she studied her daughter, and Violet felt like a fraud. What if Sara couldn’t always keep her safe? What if Dr. Lee couldn’t teach her to control her gift? What if she put herself in danger again?
She thought of the girl in the freezer as she wrapped her hands around the travel mug filled with hot coffee, trying to chase away the bitter chill that slid through her veins at the thought.
Violet lagged behind the other girls who’d left the locker room. She’d changed slowly, pretended to forget something in her locker, and now, as she sat on the sidelines of the gymnasium watching everyone as they paired up, she dropped down and retied her shoes for the fifth time. They were probably the best-tied shoes in the gym by now.
Basketball wasn’t exactly Violet’s thing. She knew she was just as likely to injure herself trying to play a game of one-on-one as she was trying to locate the echoes of the dead. Maybe more so.
And unfortunately, everyone else knew it too.
Today, at least, they were only doing drills. No one-on-ones, scrimmages, or team play. Just plain old, ordinary drills. She could handle that, couldn’t she?
But even now, Violet watched as the girl with the back brace for scoliosis picked someone else to be her partner. And, one by one, everyone around her paired up, until Violet was the only one left standing.
Violet left her spot on the white line and eased closer to Chelsea. “Come on, you guys, can’t I just play with you?” She hated that she was whining, but she hated it even more that she was a basketball leper. Chelsea ignored her as she and Jules executed perfect, high-velocity chest passes between the two of them. Violet flinched when the ball came flying back to Chelsea.
Chelsea’s lip curled as she caught the ball, and she shook her head at Violet disappointedly. “No. And that’s why. You’re afraid of the ball, Vi. You can’t catch it and you can’t throw it.” Chelsea holstered the ball at her waist and looked dubiously at her friend. “Can you even dribble?”
Violet shrugged. “Not really,” she admitted. “But I don’t wanna be stuck playing with the coach again. She throws too hard, and she yells at me when I miss. Everyone stares at us.”
Chelsea shook her head, launching the ball back at Jules. “I’m sorry, I really am. But you suck at basketball.”
Violet did her best not to shrink away this time when the ball came hurtling back to Chelsea, trying to show that she could be part of their team. “Please. Just until we start dribbling drills?”
Chelsea closed her eyes as she dropped her chin to her chest. She clutched the ball in both hands and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Violet didn’t even need her to answer now—she knew Chelsea was giving in. Chelsea was her best friend, after all, and while she tried to be indifferent—to everything and everyone—Violet knew she couldn’t resist her friend’s puppy-dog eyes for long. Jules wouldn’t be thrilled—Violet would definitely slow them down—but if Chelsea agreed, Jules wouldn’t argue either.
“Sit down with me,” her mom said as Violet poured hot coffee into a travel mug.
“I can’t, Mom,” she answered hastily, reaching into the fridge to pull out the creamer. “If I don’t get going, I’ll be late.”
But her mom didn’t relent, and as Violet swirled the vanilla-flavored liquid into her mug, she saw her mom reach out and pat the stool beside her at the kitchen counter. “Don’t give me that. You can spare a minute.” When Violet opened her mouth to argue, her mom insisted, her voice leaving no wiggle room. “It wasn’t a request, Vi.”
Violet exhaled dramatically, but dropped her backpack and slouched onto the seat. “Happy now? What’s up?” she sighed, wondering if her parents had finally had enough of her sneaking in at all hours.
“Nothing really.” Her mom blew on her tea, steam drifting up lazily from the delicate teacup with pink and yellow rosebuds painted on it. But Violet wasn’t fooled by the cavalier attitude. Nothing was the last thing this was; otherwise she’d already be out the door and on her way to school. “I just wanted to check in. See how things are going. You’ve been working a lot lately and we haven’t seen much of you. Is it so strange that I’d want to know if everything’s all right?”
Violet flashed her mom a skeptical frown, and then grinned. “What’s the matter, Mom? Do you miss me?”
Her mom shot a humorless glance her way. “Of course I do. Does that really surprise you?” Then her lips curved into a wan smile—weak at best—and Violet realized she really was worried. “I just want to make sure Sara’s keeping up her end of our arrangement. That she’s keeping you safe.”
“Haven’t you asked her yourself when you’ve called to check in?” Violet didn’t see the point in pretending she didn’t know about the almost daily phone calls.
Her mom’s eyebrows lifted and she studied her daughter as she set her teacup down on the table. “Of course I’ve asked her, but now I’m asking you.”
They stared at each other for a long, strained moment, Violet thinking it should bother her that her parents were checking up on her. She was seventeen years old and deserved more freedom than that, didn’t she? But then she remembered what she’d done last night, in the warehouse. And she couldn’t help wondering if Sara had already told her mother.
Maybe her mom was right to be concerned.
“Everything’s okay,” Violet finally promised, smiling a little too eagerly, but feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. She resisted the urge to press her fingers against her temples. “There are a lot of people looking out for me, Sara included. They won’t let anything happen.”
Her mom’s gaze narrowed as she studied her daughter, and Violet felt like a fraud. What if Sara couldn’t always keep her safe? What if Dr. Lee couldn’t teach her to control her gift? What if she put herself in danger again?
She thought of the girl in the freezer as she wrapped her hands around the travel mug filled with hot coffee, trying to chase away the bitter chill that slid through her veins at the thought.
Violet lagged behind the other girls who’d left the locker room. She’d changed slowly, pretended to forget something in her locker, and now, as she sat on the sidelines of the gymnasium watching everyone as they paired up, she dropped down and retied her shoes for the fifth time. They were probably the best-tied shoes in the gym by now.
Basketball wasn’t exactly Violet’s thing. She knew she was just as likely to injure herself trying to play a game of one-on-one as she was trying to locate the echoes of the dead. Maybe more so.
And unfortunately, everyone else knew it too.
Today, at least, they were only doing drills. No one-on-ones, scrimmages, or team play. Just plain old, ordinary drills. She could handle that, couldn’t she?
But even now, Violet watched as the girl with the back brace for scoliosis picked someone else to be her partner. And, one by one, everyone around her paired up, until Violet was the only one left standing.
Violet left her spot on the white line and eased closer to Chelsea. “Come on, you guys, can’t I just play with you?” She hated that she was whining, but she hated it even more that she was a basketball leper. Chelsea ignored her as she and Jules executed perfect, high-velocity chest passes between the two of them. Violet flinched when the ball came flying back to Chelsea.
Chelsea’s lip curled as she caught the ball, and she shook her head at Violet disappointedly. “No. And that’s why. You’re afraid of the ball, Vi. You can’t catch it and you can’t throw it.” Chelsea holstered the ball at her waist and looked dubiously at her friend. “Can you even dribble?”
Violet shrugged. “Not really,” she admitted. “But I don’t wanna be stuck playing with the coach again. She throws too hard, and she yells at me when I miss. Everyone stares at us.”
Chelsea shook her head, launching the ball back at Jules. “I’m sorry, I really am. But you suck at basketball.”
Violet did her best not to shrink away this time when the ball came hurtling back to Chelsea, trying to show that she could be part of their team. “Please. Just until we start dribbling drills?”
Chelsea closed her eyes as she dropped her chin to her chest. She clutched the ball in both hands and let out a long, dramatic sigh. Violet didn’t even need her to answer now—she knew Chelsea was giving in. Chelsea was her best friend, after all, and while she tried to be indifferent—to everything and everyone—Violet knew she couldn’t resist her friend’s puppy-dog eyes for long. Jules wouldn’t be thrilled—Violet would definitely slow them down—but if Chelsea agreed, Jules wouldn’t argue either.
