Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Barely visible rays of light moved from her to him and back again, some energy she didn’t know how to describe because she’d never experienced it before. Oddly shaped numbers glowed everywhere in that same elusive light, bouncing off each other and changing into other numbers.
She reached for Tanner, but suddenly she was blown back, and she screamed as she flew through the air, the blast of the shotgun so loud that it felt like a bomb had exploded between her ears.
Someone ran past her, the man who’d robbed the store, the one who’d come in behind them while they laughed and sang about piña coladas in the potato chip aisle. The one with the bloodshot eyes who’d shot Tanner. Tanner had dropped the bottle of iced tea he’d been holding, and it’d crashed loudly on the floor. She sat up, watching blearily as a girl in jeans and a white sweater went down on her knees next to him. Me. That’s me. She watched the horror in her own eyes, and then she watched as that horror increased when her past self looked out the front door.
She knew what the girl who was her was seeing. She was watching the other men who’d been in the car with the robber get out and move back toward the store. Why? Why? Oh no, oh God. What did they want? She asked the question then, but she knew the answer now. They were part of a gang, and they’d been taking part in an initiation that went awry. They were supposed to rob the clerk, but they’d accidentally shot a customer. And there’d been a witness. Her. The other members had decided that they had to kill her and the clerk so the murder wouldn’t come back to them. And so they’d headed back into the store to clean up the mess. All this knowledge was contained in one short string of numbers that flashed in the air in front of her.
The girl who was her shot to her feet, picking up Tanner under his arms and dragging him toward the back. He moaned. He was still alive. Her breath came out in ragged pants and she could barely feel her limbs, but that small sound gave her the hope and the courage to pull him around the corner and toward the back. She felt the feelings of then mixed with the sorrow of now, and though it was terrible and tragic and hopeless, there was a bright pulse underlying it all, numbers and light smashing and colliding and dancing in a way that was so beautiful her mouth fell open. It was love, love so bright and profound that it made her gasp in wonder. She’d acted in love for Tanner, and she knew through the sight of the light and the numbers that he felt it. Her love was flowing into him despite the fear and the cold and the panic. It was brighter than all those things and more powerful than anything she’d ever felt.
The light lulled her, and for a moment she drifted, but then something sharp poked her ribs and she groaned, moving away from it and opening her eyes.
Come back. The middle is waiting for you. I’m with you. Let’s go.
Cold. God, she was suddenly so, so cold. She lifted her head, blinking around. A freezer. She was in a freezer. She’d pulled Tanner inside and his head was cradled in her lap. She shivered, hunching her shoulders against the chill. Next to her, the warmth of the Saint Bernard pressed in, his thick coat giving her comfort and warding off the worst of the cold. He rubbed his head against her shoulder. Back, forth, back, forth. Lennon looked down and pulled in a sob. Tanner’s lips were curved in a smile, his eyes just beginning to shut. He wouldn’t open them again, the her of now knew that. But so did the her of then. “No,” she said. “No, no, no.”
She heard the robbers in the store, yelling at the clerk. Then she bit down on her tongue so she wouldn’t scream when she heard the blast of the shotgun. He’d been killed but only after he’d told them he hadn’t called the police. She learned later that his cell phone was dead. He’d been heading for the office to call for help when they returned to kill him. There was no alarm. No one on the way. And Lennon was in the freezer with the dying boy she loved.
“Hey, Picasso.” She pulled in a breath, gasping when she looked up to see that Tanner was no longer in her lap but standing, leaned against the wall, one foot crossed over the other. So casually handsome, full of life.
“Picasso? Why do you call me Picasso? I play the piano.”