Sister Dear
Page 34
Emma’s mother runs up then, crying, hugging, and kissing her.
With Emma okay, the grown-ups turn back to me. Most of them have their arms crossed and don’t look happy. No doubt the principal is ready to dish out a detention or two.
“Dude, your dad’s going to freak when he finds out,” Mo says and rolls his eyes. “He hates your superhero stuff.”
“Don’t remind me.” Inside, I feel sick. I know that I am supposed to get good grades, play sports, and be polite. My dad isn’t a fan of making big scenes.
“It was pretty cool anyway.” Mo cocks his head. “Who are you today?”
“Daredevil.”
“Nice.” He grins and leans against the tree below me, waiting. “You coming down now, superhero?”
I lean back against the trunk, waiting for the firefighters to come back with the blanket. “Yep.”
“Go ahead,” Mo dares me, raising an eyebrow and grinning.
I hesitate, thinking I’d be crazy to jump. But superheroes take chances, don’t they? I’d seen Daredevil jump from this height before. So holding my breath, I let go. Somehow, though, I twist midair and land smack down on my face. Hard.
The belly flop knocks the breath from my lungs. Time stops.
The smell of cut grass makes me want to sneeze. And someone’s wearing really, really bad perfume. At least I’m not dead. Everyone is shouting and my ears hurt. There are hands touching my legs and arms. I roll my head an inch to one side. All I can see are shoes. A pair of black heels come closer.
“Jack, sweetheart, can you hear me?”
I push myself up with one arm and swipe at my hair with the back of my hand. “Sure thing,” I answer, jaw set at the ridiculous question. Even superheroes stumble sometimes.
“Jack—”
“I’m fine.” To prove it, I try to jump up and get to my feet. But like Superman with a mound of Kryptonite in the room, I am so weak that I almost fall over.
The office lady’s mouth stretches wide and yawns.
My brain won’t work. What is her name? Two of her now? Ink-stained fingers snap in front of my nose. My brain starts to rewind. My knees give out. Everything slides to the right and goes black.
The story continues in Laura McNeill’s Center of Gravity . . .