Free Praefatio: A Novel by Georgia McBride Page A

hand along my arm to find skin as smooth and soft as that of a newborn. When I touched my hair, it was like touching fine silk. I looked, but had no wings. So much for that.
    It started as a low buzz that, by the end of the hour, culminated in a loud and unwelcome cacophony of sounds. Voices and things jammed my head, vying for my mind’s attention. Conversations, thoughts, dreams, radio, TV, and even the Internet filled the space between my ears, along with animal sounds, cars, machines, and feet on the pavement. I tried to distinguish between what and whom I heard, but I grew nauseated and had to stop. When I tried again to focus, I learned that dreams seemed to be encased in deep emotions like fear, lust, or hate. Conversations were more about thoughts than what was actually said.
    Focusing my enhanced vision was even harder. The concentration made me hungry. My stomach growled as I remembered it was pizza night at the Larsons’. I considered my options. I could stay and push hospital food around on a plastic tray, or sneak out and get some Papa John’s. I grabbed my clothes and hightailed it out of there.
    I wasn’t especially keeping track of time, but moments later our green Craftsman home came into view. It seemed like I’d only been walking for minutes, but our house was at least eight miles from the hospital.
    The Larsons insisted we stay in our home after Dad died. Together with Jenny they moved in, though they kept their home around the corner. Mr. Larson retreated there when the memory of my dad became overwhelming. He’d say he had papers to grade that could only be done from his office at “home.” But I’d never seen a teacher misty-eyed over eleventh-grade test scores.
    In front of my house, hundreds of butterflies flitted in my stomach. I heard voices from inside—Remi, Jenny, and Sean. I smelled them, too. The mix of Jenny’s perfume with Sean’s aftershave was dizzying.
    I stood there, trying to get my bearings, wondering how to explain this to the Larsons. It seemed like forever since I had been in that house. But it had only been a day since I was thinking about the possibility of winning the Rock-N-Writing contest and meeting Gavin Vault. The day Dad died weighed heavily on me then, and how winning the contest would give my mom and me something in common. But that was before Remi and I were almost slaughtered and Remi turned into an angel and I passed out and ended up in the hospital with broken ribs.
    Everything had changed. I couldn’t image how I was supposed to behave, knowing what I knew about Mom, Dad, and Remi.
    I had a mother out there somewhere who I had never met, and apparently she preferred it that way. And Monk Girl—I guessed, was my sister, my freaking twin sister! As far as I could tell, becoming an angel was not all it was cracked up to be. I didn’t even have any wings!
    And then there was Gavin Vault, someone I had barely considered the day before. Now I knew he was the person behind the voice I’d fallen in love with. I wanted to be happy. But I’d never really thought I would ever meet my voice, let alone that when I did, he’d be an international rock star of the obnoxiously cute kind.
    My thoughts turned to Remi. What would he say about it all? What would I say? “Hey, Remi. Where’ve you been hiding those wings?” Crap.
    And what about Jenny and the vision I’d seen? She was terrified. Who wouldn’t be scared, roaming the pitch-black woods alone at night when some guy with fangs shows up, circling you like a porterhouse on the first day after Lent? And what was she doing there all alone?
    My thoughts were abruptly interrupted by approaching voices and the swing of the front door of my house. Sean was first, size eleven vintage black Vans out in front. Remi was right behind him with his classic smile, flashing perfectly straight, white teeth, intensely charismatic. He was kind of like Mom, but in a good way. They seemed to be in a hurry. The energy emanating