Free Poison Ink by Christopher Golden Page A

she darted across the hall into her parents’ room. The taller of the two bureaus belonged to her mother, who always kept her address book beside the small jewelry box on top.
    Sammi slipped out her cell phone. Flipping through the pages of the address book, she found the number she wanted and keyed it into the phone but did not press the green button that would send the call through. The address book went back to its place on the bureau and Sammi hurried back to her own bedroom, closing the door behind her.
    Staring a moment at the number she had punched in, she hit the button. Her face felt warm, and she glanced anxiously at her door, hating secrecy. A song started to play on the line, and at first she thought it would be voice mail. Then she realized it was just a ringback tone, some thrash metal thing that pounded into her skull so that she had to hold the phone away from her ear.
    “Hello?”
    “Zak? Oh, wow. I didn’t think you were going to answer. Hey, it’s Sammi.”
    “Samalamadingdong! What’s up? Hey, wait, is something wrong?”
    “No, no, everybody’s good. I just…need some help.”
    Zak hesitated. When he spoke again, the lightness had gone from his tone. “You know I’ll always help if I can, Sam. We’re family. Talk to me.”
    Sammi wanted to shout. She felt so trapped between obligations to her parents and her friends that it was as if she were all alone in the world. Cute Adam might be sweet, but they’d just met and she didn’t want to scare him off with any weirdness. Zak would never know how much it meant to her, just to have someone to rely on.
    Though she didn’t see him often—he was in college and five years older than she was—Zak was the only one of her relatives aside from her parents who had ever taken much interest in her. The whole family thought him bizarre, but he had always been a sweet guy, so they indulged him.
    While working toward his degree at New England Community College, Zak made a living handcrafting leather, everything from decorative masks to jackets, vests, and chaps for people who loved their motorcycles a little too much. He set up a booth at Renaissance fairs and that sort of thing. Sammi had always thought him wonderful, loved how he went through the world as an artisan, doing what he loved. If he had been a musician, he’d have been some kind of troubadour. And Zak had always encouraged her music.
    Sammi wasn’t alone. She reached into her back pocket and unfolded the paper, staring at Dante’s design.
    “You still going out with Rachael Dubrowski?”
    “Yeah, of course. What’s this about, Sammi?”
    Rachael was two years older than Zak, but they’d had a thing going on for years. Sammi had gone to school with her younger sister, Anna, since the first grade.
    “Rachael still has that tattoo shop downtown, right?”
     
    how’d ur sleepover go?
    The text from Cute Adam came through a little after nine o’clock that night. Sammi had just come back from the movies with her mother—Dad still celebrating a Patriots win—and when she got to her bedroom, it was a relief not to have to keep worrying about her shirt riding up to reveal the upper edge of the bandage on her lower abdomen.
    kinda weird, she texted back. long story.
    what @ ur date fri. nite? how’d that go?
    Sammi smiled and burrowed down under her covers. The windows were open and the curtains billowed in the breeze. The rain had stopped and the night air smelled amazing.
    pretty good, i think. he’s cute. smart. different.
    u think u’ll c him again next wknd?
    if he asks.
    huh. got a feeling he will.
    A warmth spread across her chest. She had only just met Adam, but she liked him. A lot. He was all the things she’d said, and clever, too. A little goofy, but she liked that, too.
    i hope so, she texted. A risk, but she felt daring. g2g2bed. talk tmrw?
    definitely. sweet dreams.
    nite.
    Sweet dreams. After last night, Sammi wouldn’t have thought it possible, but maybe she would have