Free A Whispered Darkness by Vanessa Barger Page A

smile.
    “Nice.”
    I mumbled something inane and handed his back as well. Mrs. Hamilton had us pass up papers, and then the bell rang. Haven caught my eye as I slung my book-bag over my shoulder. The speculative look was back on his face, and I wondered what he thought he saw.
    “See you later, Claire.” He said, and headed for the door.
    I mumbled something non-committal as I waited for the other people in front of me to slide out of the row of desks. Grant lounged against the wall outside, his head bent and dark circles around his eyes. The frown that seemed to have become a permanent part of his face was deeper than normal. Grant was struggling with the social aspects of high school. Usually that was my job, but our roles had reversed this time around. I wished I knew how to help him, but I preferred the loner role. Grant was a social creature.
    “Did you have as much fun as me today?” he asked.
    “Doubt it. You look like a barrel of laughs.”
    One side of his mouth rose. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m the life of the party.”
    I snorted and we headed for the front doors. Mom’s car wasn’t at the curb. A glance at my watch confirmed we were running late. Only a few more minutes and the buses would leave.
    “She’s not coming.” Grant’s voice was flat.
    “Think positive.”
    “All right. I’m positive she’s not coming.”
    I glanced at my watch once more, then back at the buses. With a groan, I snagged Grant’s elbow and we sprinted to our bus, jumping on right before the engine roared to life. It wasn’t crowded. Most kids caught rides or stayed after for an activity.
    Grant slouched against the green pleather seat and turned his head to stare out the window.
    “You know how Mom gets with her projects. She probably lost track of time.” Even as I said it, I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. I’m not even sure why I bothered trying to defend her.
    He didn’t even turn to look at me. “Let’s face it, Claire. Mom’s so devoted to making the house into her dream home, she forgot to get us.”
    I wanted to protest, but knew when we got home she’d be in the back rooms. And thirty minutes later, after we’d trudged up the driveway when the bus dropped us off, I discovered I was right.
    “Mom?” Grant yelled. He flung his book bag into the corner of the foyer so hard a picture bounced and nearly shot off the wall.
    There was rustling, and then her head appeared around the corner of the door in the back room. Her hair was bound with a red handkerchief, and dirt smudged her cheeks.
    “Oh, God, I’m so sorry guys. I got caught up in what I was doing and lost track of time. You won’t believe what I’ve found in here. Come and see!”
    Grant snorted. “Like hell.”
    She frowned at him, but he was around the corner and upstairs before she lodged a real protest. My throat ached with the effort of keeping my own angry words in.
    “Aren’t you leaving for work soon?”
    Panic flickered and she leapt to her feet. “What time is it?”
    “Almost four.”
    She ran past me upstairs, cursing under her breath. At least the house didn’t seem able to keep her from remembering all her duties. Only the ones involving Grant and me. Bitterness brought tears to my eyes, but I shoved the emotion aside.
    I headed up to my room, dropping my book bag next to the desk. Dull, repetitious bass thumped through the wall between Grant’s room and mine. Loud angry music and a shut door. Universal signs he was pissed at Mom.
    In another world, she’d have gone and nagged him through the door until he opened it and they talked about whatever was wrong.
    That was then, and this was now.
    I wasn’t going to stand at his door. Instead, I’d opt for the more subtle way to Grant’s heart—food.
    As I left my room, I paused. The temperature dropped, and I turned my head toward the tower library. The door was open, and inside, the wheelchair that had freaked me out sat in