Buried Read Online Free PDF Page A

grinning underneath his black mask. “Don’t you know that making such a serious accusation is slanderous? I could sue you and financially ruin your family.”
    I almost laugh. “If my family had anything worth suing for, I wouldn’t be stuck living in this brain-numbing hellhole.”
    â€œNot a fan of Nevada Bluff High?”
    â€œNot a fan of Nevada.”
    â€œThose are fighting words at a school where school pride runs high. Haven’t you heard NB is number one in the high school football league and the alma mater of the last five county rodeo champions?”
    The dry irony in his tone makes it impossible to tell if he’s poking fun at the school or at me. “I don’t give a crap about this school or you. I wouldn’t bother with that guy if I knew he’d be okay. I have enough troubles already.” I glance uneasily at my backpack.
    In the distance, a bell announces the end of the school day.
    Masked Guy lifts his head so I know he heard the bell, too, and he tenses as if growing anxious. “This ends now,” he says roughly. “You’re leaving.”
    â€œSure.” I smile like I’m sweet and gullible.
    â€œThen get moving.”
    â€œWhatever you say.” I take a step toward the gym.
    â€œNot in there!” he shouts.
    â€œPutting someone’s life in danger is just stupid and dangerous.” I race toward the gym door but before I can make it, Masked Guy’s gloved hand springs out. He grabs my arm and spins me around, pinning me against his chest.
    â€œLet me go!” I squirm, kicking his leg and feeling some satisfaction when I hear him grunt in pain.
    â€œI’ve played nice until now,” he growls. “No more.”
    â€œAre you threatening me?”
    â€œI never threaten.” He’s close enough for me to feel his hot breath on my neck and catch a whiff of musky cologne. “I act,” he says.
    Then he yanks my backpack from my shoulder and shoves me roughly to the ground. “You’ll find this in the Dumpster by the library,” he says. “But you’d better hurry because someone else may find it first—and you know how dishonest students can be in this hellhole.”
    Then he strides off with my backpack.
    I stumble to my feet, shaking with fury, and see the back of his head—and the bright yellow design on his ski mask.
    A cheerful smiley face.
    Mocking me.

F o u r
    G ive me my backpack!” I shout, but my words drift away like dead leaves in the wind.
    I look at the gym, wanting to rescue the kid trapped inside, but I’m sure his cage is locked and I’d end up going for help anyway.
    So I take off down the rough terrain after the Masked Guy. He’s moving fast, like he’s part goat and part track star. I shout after him again but he’s so far away that all I can make out is a dark blur. My army boot smacks a boulder and I stumble, somersaulting onto prickly weeds. My jeans rip and my knees sting, but my pride hurts worse.
    Panic grows because I can not lose my backpack. Not only does it have expensive-to-replace school books, but I’d die if anyone—especially a masked jerk—read the letter. There’s the heart-shaped necklace, too, which I don’t want to keep but ache at the thought of losing.
    So I run like I’m in a life-or-death race. The terrain rises, then drops at a steep angle. I veer around a large rock, then peer down the hill at the school; it seems as small as a string of toy blocks linked together. I don’t see Masked Guy.
    He’s probably already at the Dumpster , I think with a new burst of anger. My lungs ache as I leave the rocky dirt and sprint on the smooth school pavement.
    Kids cram the walkways after the final bell, and I weave through the crowds murmuring “sorry” whenever I bump someone. What Dumpster did he say? Oh, yeah, the library. Only I’m going the wrong direction, so I turn