Free Seconds Before Sunrise (The Timely Death Trilogy) by Shannon A. Thompson

wrecks.”
    They continued to talk, and I gripped my seat to keep myself from walking across the room and slapping them. I didn’t understand how they could be so cold.
    “Don’t worry abo ut Welborn,” Jonathon said.
    M y neck cracked when I turned to him. “What?”
    He gestured toward the gossip. “You were listening,” he said. “I figured you were worried. Are you friends with him?”
    I hesitated. Jonathon wasn’t going to give up.
    “Kind of,” I sighed. “He’s my partner in homeroom class. He wasn’t there yesterday, and I guess I wondered where he was.”
    “He’s fine,” Jonathon said, dragging his fingers over his palm as if he were drawing.
    I ignored his habit. I wanted to know about Eric. “How do you know?”
    “Our fathers are best friends,” he said. “I know Eric really well.”
    “I didn’t know.”
    “Not many people do,” Jonathon chuckled. “But we’re friends.”
    “I didn’t know he had friends,” I said, hoping my honesty wouldn’t come across as harsh as it felt.
    “He has lots of friends, Jess,” Jonathon said, standing this time. He walked over to his palette, and I followed him without hesitation. If he could come to me, I could do the same thing to him.
    “I didn’t mean that as a joke,” I clarified, sitting next to him.
    He picked up his paints. “Eric and I tend not to talk during school.”
    “Why?”
    “That’s just how we are,” he said. “He does his sulking thing, and I do my artist thing.” His foggy eye seemed to focus on me. “I thought you met my father.”
    “I did?”
    Jonathon’s thick glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. “George Stone? He was at Eric’s house when you two were working on your science project last year.”
    It came to me like a distant whi sper − the bickering, chasing Eric down, his wit, and everything else I despised about the project. But the other memories happened like a burst of lightning − the willow tree, his house, his room. Everything was a dream I had to fight to remember, but it had only been six months.
    Remembering George Stone was a migraine. When he had opened the door, his voice had frightened me. He had longer hair, but his lack of facial hair made him look younger than I had originally thought. I didn’t think he had kids. He didn’t seem to be that kind of man.
    “I did meet him,” I managed through the headache. “Weird.”
    Jonathon turned his entire body toward me. “My dad likes to give me his autobiography every night,” he joked, explaining how he knew.
    I laughed. “Fun.”
    “Very.”
    “My un cle said the ambulance crew thought Welborn broke some ribs,” Sarah continued, louder every minute. I might as well have been sitting next to her. “He might even have permanent eye damage. It was swollen shut.”
    I focused on Jonathon. “Are you positive he’s okay?” I whispered.
    He scooted closer. “Positive as can be,” he said. “I talked to him once, but I don’t think he’ll remember. He kept drifting in and out.”
    Jonathon was not making me feel better.
    “He blacked out?” I asked.
    He snapped his mouth shut as his gaze drifted over my expression. “He’ll be okay, but he isn’t in good shape. Her uncle was right about that much.”
    “What exactly happened?”
    “He was speeding in that Charger of his, and he lost control,” he confirmed Sarah’s story. “He’s not too happy about totaling his car. He loved that thing.”
    “I think I’d be more worried about my he alth than my car,” I said.
    J onathon laughed under his breath. “That’s Eric for you,” he said. “He only fractured three ribs, and he has a pretty nasty black eye, but he’ll be walking around in a few days. No worries.”
    “Fractured ribs?” I cringed, but I was glad to hear his eye wasn’t permanently damaged. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
    “Sure, but he can manage a few bumps and bruises. He’s a tough kid.”
    A part of me already knew that. Just by the look in his