Breathe for Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

could have helped it. If bringing death could be considered help, that is.
    I shove my hand into my pocket, glancing back behind me. The old man is on a cell phone as he looks down at the bird. All I can do now is hope he does the right thing.

    The pitiable bird lingers in my mind, and I spend most of my day in a sort of distracted haze. Samantha notices a difference in my personality, but I tell her I’m not feeling well. It’s true—my stomach is a mess, a tangle of guilt and sorrow.
    When English class starts, I move into my seat and stare at my desk, trying to shake off my emotions so I can focus.
    Mrs. Scott, our teacher, writes swiftly on the chalkboard and talks even faster. “To wrap up this unit on poetry, I’m going to assign you guys a final project. I want you to work in pairs. You and your partner are going to write a poem together.”
    There are several moans in class, especially from the guys in the room. I dare a glance at Dominic, who’s busy writing in his notebook.
    â€œYou may pick your partners now—you have two minutes.” Mrs. Scott looks at her watch.
    Students jump out of their seats and scuttle around the room, their voices mixing in a cacophony of laughs and rushed words. I remain seated but turn my gaze again at Dominic, who is also still in his seat. Now looking at me.
    I bite my lower lip. Should I go over to him? He’s the only one in here I would feel even marginally comfortable composing a poem with.
    Then again, that might not be such a good thing.
    Terri, a girl in our class, sidles over to Dominic’s side of the room. Her gaze scatters across the students who haven’t partnered up yet. I see her draw an unsteady gulp of air, tossing several quick glances between Dominic and another guy behind him. Which one is she going to ask to be her partner?
    Something comes over me, a surge of boldness that fills my veins. I rise out of my seat and walk to him.
    â€œWill you work with me on this project, Dominic?” I ask in a quiet voice.
    Honestly, I’m just as surprised to hear the words out of my mouth as he appears to be. I know I’m flirting with danger, but I can’t resist the pull I’m feeling right now. To bring him closer, even if just for a school project. This will be my best chance to find out who he is and why he interests me so much.
    He nods, the corners of his mouth creasing in a smile, and gathers his books. “That’d be great.” He slips out of his seat with a well-practiced ease and follows me to my side of the room, moving into the empty spot on my right.
    Terri shoots a surprised glance our way then scuttles over to the other guy and settles in beside him.
    Mrs. Scott quiets everyone down and explains the instructions. We have to write a poem of at least eight lines on any topic we choose, using poetic writing strategies we’ve been discussing throughout the unit.
    As she talks, I force myself to focus on writing notes. But my body is keenly aware of the heat emanating from Dominic. I can hear his slow, steady breaths. In, out. In, out. The sound is lulling, hypnotic, and I forget where I am for a moment as I listen to him.
    â€œâ€”started on your planning now,” Mrs. Scott is saying.
    I snap myself back to attention and risk a peek at Dominic. He scoots his desk closer to mine, so close I feel his leg brush against the thin pants covering my knee. I swallow and clench my hands together on my desk. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. I hadn’t planned on being so physically aware of him.
    Dominic grabs a pencil and opens his notebook to a fresh page. He scratches the back of his neck with his free hand, turning those blue eyes my way. “What should we write about?”
    I shrug, my tongue suddenly thick. I can’t speak. I smell the clean, soft scent of his soap as it wafts in the air. The sudden urge to lean close and breathe him in deeper startles me. Panics