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(This Page Is Blank.)
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You're invited to a sneak peek of the next book in the Private series:
UNTOUCHABLE
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DECISION
Ninety percent out of it and I was still learning things. For instance: The curious stares of your peers become pretty easy to ignore when you're working on approximately forty-?five minutes of sleep spread out over three days. Also, the cafeteria manager doesn't like it when he finds someone sitting on the cold brick outside the door waiting for him to unlock it. Cheerios expand when left to soak in milk for too long. If you spend enough time gazing blankly at them, you can watch it happen.
A few days had passed since Thomas's funeral and still I had hardly eaten or slept. The area under my eyes felt full and tight and heavy at all times, like I could either pass out or burst into tears at any second. The door to the cafeteria opened and I looked up from my Cheerios instinctively, an image of Thomas flashing through my mind. A queasy warmth hit me and I felt like so wretchedly stupid I wanted to scream. It wasn't Thomas. It was never going to be Thomas. Figure it out, Reed. “Are you all right?”
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Somehow I lifted my eighty-?pound head and looked up at Josh. He hovered at the end of the otherwise deserted cafeteria table with a tray full of doughnuts and chocolate milk. Boy took in more sugar before nine a.m. than most five-?year-?olds did in a day.
“M'fine,” I mumbled. “Just wishing this bowl was a pillow.”
I pushed my tray aside and rested my elbows on the table, taking a long, deep breath to try to crowd out the nausea. Josh sat down across from me and lifted his messenger bag over his head, placing it on the floor. He wore a blue and yellow rugby shirt with a green paint stain on one of the yellow stripes. His curls were sticking out adorably in all directions.
Adorably. I wanted to flog myself. Thomas was dead. I was not supposed to be noticing that other guys were adorable.
Under the table, Josh fumbled with his bag. He slapped his hand to his mouth, then took a chug of his chocolate milk to help him swallow.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Vitamins,” Josh said. “One a day keeps the doctor away.”
“You are a parent's wet dream,” I told him.
“Tell that to my parents,” he said.
I smiled. It was nice that he could make me smile even in my current state of semi-?consciousness.
Josh lowered his body toward the table a bit, in confab mode. I leaned in as well. “So, I've thought about it, and I've decided to go to the cops like Noelle said,” he whispered.
He bit into a powdered doughnut and sugar sprayed everywhere. I looked at him and wondered if I was dreaming. Did he really just tell me that he was going to rat out Thomas, and then take a big old
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bite of doughnut? I couldn't even swallow one spoonful of cereal this morning and he seemed, well, fine. In fact, for the past few days, Josh had been keeping it together better than anyone else I knew, which made little to no sense. Thomas was his roommate. His friend. And I hadn't even seen him cry once. But what did I know? Maybe he went back to his room and blubbered in private all night long. It wouldn't be the first time someone around Easton kept a se
cret.
'You really think that's necessary?" I asked.
“Noelle was right,” Josh said, chewing. “That guy she was talking about? Rick? He was Thomas's local supplier and he's a total wackjob. I would bet money he had something to do with this.”
I took a deep breath, straightened my back for a second, then slumped again. “I don't know, Josh. Do we really want Thomas's parents to know all this stuff? I know he was into some scary crap, but he was trying to change. Did he tell you he was on his way to rehab the night he left?”
Josh blurted out a laugh and took a sip of milk, smiling in mirth. I suddenly felt very hot all over.
“What?” I said.