Free Reckoning by Molly M. Hall Page A

what…I’m, like, evolving?”
    “Aren’t we all? All the time?”
    “Yeah. I guess so.” I can’t stop looking at the stone.
    “I know there’s a lot more to it. I’m sure you can probably Google it and find out all kinds of info.” She glances at her watch. “Shoot. I gotta go. I’m supposed to help Cassie with her math homework tonight. Mom’ll kill me if I’m late.” She swings her bag over her shoulder and grabs the gem catalog.
    I walk her out, still entranced with the seraphinite, watching the patterns shift and change.
    “Don’t stare at it too long,” she chides. “You might go blind!” She laughs, and gives me a quick hug before opening her car door and tossing her purse inside. Straightening, she stares down the street, her head cocked to one side. “What is with that house, anyway?”
    I look up, following her gaze to the empty house at the end of the block. Shrugging, glance to the upper windows. Old glass, cloudy and cracked, dully reflects the orange glow of the setting sun. “It’s just an old house. Nothing in there.” I keep my voice neutral.
    “But it’s so creepy! Every time I drive by it I get…” She leaves her sentence unfinished.
    “What?” I look at her closely.
    “I don’t know. It just creeps me out, I guess.” She turns and looks at me. “Have you ever been in there?”
    “No.” I shake my head. “It really should be torn down.”
    “Yeah, I guess,” she says softly, looking back at the house. “Well, I gotta go!” She lowers herself into the car. “See you tomorrow!”
    “Thanks again!” I call after her.
    Her car disappears down the street, and I glance back at the house, my eyes straying once again to the bedroom window. My stomach tightens. The reflection of the sunset disappears, replaced by the shadowy form of the woman I’ve grown used to seeing over the years. She hovers behind the glass, eerily still and foreboding, her pale eyes looking down at me. The familiar cold feeling of dread fills my stomach. She lifts a hand and my scalp tingles as I watch her dead fingers press against the cracked panes. I turn away.
    Rubbing my thumb across the smooth surface of the seraphinite stone, I start to head inside when a flicker of movement catches the corner of my eye. Lovell is standing at his front window, a cloth in one hand, a bottle of Windex in the other. He waves and smiles before squirting the window and rubbing vigorously at the glass.
    I wave back. I brief gesture of acknowledgement, and hurry inside.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    I get through my chemistry final without working up too much of a headache. I feel fairly confident that I did well enough to at least get a C. Which, considering my math skills, is pretty respectable.
    After school, I go grocery shopping with my mom, a decision that I quickly regret as she grills me all through the store about boys and if there is anyone in particular I like. She’s been pushing me all year to get out more, convinced my social life is entirely too lacking. Maybe it is. But, other than Rick, there isn’t anyone I’m even remotely interested in. And I’m definitely not prepared to talk about him. I know she just wants the best for me, but the few dates I’ve been on have been more awkward and uncomfortable than exciting and fun. And after thirty minutes of endless questions and unwanted encouragement, I just want to drop the subject.
    I sigh with relief when we pull up in front of our house, hopping out of the car before she’s even turned off the engine. I head to the back and wait for her to pop the trunk.
    Grabbing two bags with each hand, I turn to the house and gasp in surprise. Lovell stands in front of me, blocking the walkway. Aggravation surges through me. Why does he always seem to appear out of nowhere?
    “Hey, Kat,” he says, with the half-smile that does something weird to my pulse. “I was just out walking around the neighborhood. Can I help with those?”
    “Hi, Lovell!” my mom calls,