A Little Crushed Read Online Free PDF Page B

retrieved her mobile from under the pillow.
     “I promise I won’t fancy Mr. Jackson,” Emma pleaded. “Am I forgiven?”
     Rebecca rubbed at her nose. She knew it upset Emma when they argued.
     “I forgive you.” She didn’t really.
     “I don’t fancy him.” Emma rushed to convince her. “Honest.”
     “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Have you started his stupid essay yet? No? Not to worry. You can copy mine tomorrow.”
     “Oh, thanks.” Emma gushed relief. “You’re a real pal. Just out of interest though. How tall would you say he is? Six-foot-one, six-two?”
     Rebecca threw the phone across the bed in disgust. She was going have to do something about Emma. What had happened to their ‘no-boyfriends-before-we’re-twenty’ pact? Rebecca blamed Twilight . All this romance twaddle was just not healthy. Emma could not fathom how she did not find Edward Cullen hot. Rebecca blew a scornful raspberry onto Wally’s head. He grunted his accord. “What’s so hot about a guy who can’t eat and glitters in daylight?”
     Again Wally agreed. Rebecca’s smile turned to a frown as the too-familiar nausea rippled in her gut. The thought of coming up close and personal with any male set her heart racing. Picking up her jotter, she gripped it tight and tried to focus on the essay title Aussie Ausbore had set the class. Aussie Ausbore . She giggled. “God, but I’m a wit, Wally. Pretty good even if I say so myself.” The nausea dissipated, and the clammy feeling left her body. Good. She was in control again.
     Rummaging in her bag, she extracted a pen, and crossing her legs, she began to write. Her essay would be such an effort of such outstanding genius his green eyes would widen with awe. Green eyes ? She stopped writing. Now where had that come from? She expelled a huge sigh and threw down her pen. The essay could wait. Dragging a by now semi-comatose Wally up on to her chest, Rebecca thought about the teacher. No—she shivered. She wouldn’t think about him. Thinking about him made her uneasy. She’d focus on planning revenge on Vicky. No she wouldn’t. Rebecca rubbed at her brow. She was tired; too tired to think about Vicky. Her silly sister wasn’t worth the energy. It was no good. She had to get the stupid essay done. Shaking her head, she retrieved her pen from beneath Wally’s too-large bum. She really was going to have to walk him more.
     * * * *
     She ran; ran so hard the sound of her own breathing hammered against her skull. Her heart raced. A tight band clawed at her chest, the pain excruciating, but she couldn’t stop. To do so would be to die. Low-hung branches scratched and whipped her face. She wiped her cheeks, feeling the warm stickiness, knowing it was blood, her blood. Feet tangled in hidden roots, and she tumbled to her knees. Panic caused bile to rise into her dry, raw throat. “No,” she moaned. “I have to keep going.” Drawing on every last vestige of strength left in her battered body, she stumbled to her feet. He drew closer. She heard his heavy lop-sided gait as he crashed through the trees. His foul, enraged curses carried through the still of the night, searing her ears and chilling her to the core. “No, please. Daddy, where are you?” Her dry sobs were futile, she knew. She was on her own. No one was coming to save her. He was closing in. His acrid stench filled her nostrils, and she whimpered. Down she went again, knees connecting with a sharp stone, cutting into already too abused flesh. Her skin crawled as her pursuer curled a calloused hand around her neck. “Not so fast, you bitch…”
     Rebecca shot up in bed. Hand shaking, she found the lamp switch, and the room flooded with welcome, warm apricot. Whimpering his own fears, Wally shuffled onto her lap and licked the tears from her cheeks. “It’s okay, Wally,” she whispered, fondling her loyal friend’s silk ears. “He didn’t get me. He didn’t get me.” Clutching the dog to her damp, sweat