Free The Guidance by Marley Gibson Page A

to Taylor. "Ignore him. He's an ass."
    Ryan slips into the seat next to Taylor. "No bacteria would dare attach itself to you, Tay."
    She melts into his hug and smiles in the most ridiculously cute and contented way. Next to me, I can sense Jason relaxing, knowing his sister is relatively happy for the first time since their dad walked out the door. I can't exactly pick up on his thoughts like I can other people's, but I know what a relief it is for him to just be himself and not constantly worry and watch over her. Like Emily does for me.
    Celia stands up and wipes her hands on her jeans. "Who's on what team?"
    "Guys against girls?" Jason suggests.
    "Not a chance," Becca chimes in, although she's a ringer when it comes to bowling. The girl has a left hook that would make professional bowlers blush. "Me, Dragon, Clay, and Celia against y'all," she says, pointing at Ryan, the Tillsons, and me.
    Jason keys all of our names into the computer system while Celia and Becca polish off the pizza. The place is really jumping tonight with RHSers and older kids hanging out by the pool tables. The energy inside the building crackles in a static-filled way. Laughter floats in the air above the zooming of the balls on the hardwood floor and the eventual
kkk-whacccck
against the pins.
    I sense a pair of eyes on me, so I scan the crowd, not knowing what to expect. Cold, steely gray orbs glare at me from nine lanes over, where Courtney Langdon, Stephanie Crawford, Farah Lewis, and Megan Bremer are with Jim Roach, Kyle Kadish, Sean Carmickle, and some other guys from the football team. Stephanie sees me and waves. Courtney turns her nose up at me like I've just committed a mortal sin. I wave back and smile. No reason to be rude or lower myself to her level. I can't believe that after my concerted effort to get on her good side, she still disses me. I don't get this girl. Maybe I never will. Maybe she's destined to be my sworn enemy from now through eternity. Wow ... dramatic much?
    Jason's warm hand slides over my waist, and he pulls me against his chest. "The hell with her," he whispers in my ear, and then kisses my hair. It's the sexiest thing ever and I feel loved and protected. With Jason around—choosing me over
her
—nothing can hurt me.
    "You're up, Kendall!" Celia yells.
    I nab a seven-pound swirly-design emerald green ball and jam my fingers into the holes. Something's not right though. A tingling sensation pulsates under my palm. Sweat rolls down my neck, making my hair feel heavy. My breathing deepens, and my head begins to hurt. It's the psychic headache I've been experiencing on and off since moving to Radisson. The same one that makes my mother lose sleep, worrying that I have a brain tumor or worse. Searing pain crawls up my right arm, and I can barely hold on to the marble ball. Blood courses through my veins, making them bulge and roll. It's like I'm fighting off something ... an infection? An injury?
    "You gonna throw it or not, Moorehead?" Becca teases.
    I take two steps and make a valiant effort to toss the ball down the lane. However, it slips right off my hand, bounces hard three times, and then slides gracelessly into the groove.
    "Gutter ball!" Dragon yells triumphantly.
    His laughter is swallowed up by the ringing sound in my head. I fall to my knees, unable to bear the immense hurt in my right arm, or the pounding of my temples as a terrible scream rips through my brain. Not mine. Someone's.
    The lights in the alley flicker and go out. The '80s Hall and Oates tune playing overhead comes to a slow stop. The electronic boards controlling everyone's score suddenly sputter and then wipe clean.
    Clay pounds his fist on the seat. "Oh, man! There goes my perfect score."
    Jason's at my side, ever my rescuer. "What's going on with you, Kendall?"
    "I'm not sure," I say and accept his hand up.
    Mr. McDonough yells to get everyone's attention and apologizes for the power outage. "Sorry about that. We've got a computer