Strikers Read Online Free PDF Page A

make a perfect match for a joke.
    She glares at us, knowing exactly what we’re laughing about. “It’s for my dyslexia. He actually took the time to look it up for me at the hospital. He even brought a bunch of colored plastic bits over and had me try them until I found a color that worked. It was pink. It works,” she says and finishes by slipping the small lenses onto her face.
    It actually looks really good on her.
    She slips them back off and into her pocket, her face serious again when she looks at us. “He’s been really nice to my whole family and I think he would at least listen to us.”
    “You were friends once. What do you think?” Connor asks me.
    Do I think Jovan is trustworthy? Do I think he would listen and not tell, maybe even find a way to help us? He helped me today even when he had no clue what I needed. But helping us break into the Courthouse, possibly earning a strike, is a very different thing than carrying me along through a reluctant crowd.
    I can’t help but think of the way he picked me up so effortlessly and the way his shirt smelled of clean laundry and warmth. When I tucked my head into his shoulder, it fit so perfectly. Then I remember the boy he was. Remembering the way we exchanged kisses on the playground long before we understood the importance of kisses almost makes me smile. I shake my head and push those thoughts away. This is no time for daydreaming about Jovan.
    “He’s trustworthy to a point,” I say, then add, “but only to a point.”
    We’re in agreement by the time the sun is warm enough that we loosen our jackets. I don’t want to go home and Connor really shouldn’t, but if we descend on Cassi’s house her mother will go all maternal on us and make things difficult.
    Connor and I settle for waiting where we are. We’ll leave only long enough to grab some food if the wait grows long, but Cassi is confident that Jovan will be there early in the day. Either way, we’ll wait for her, no matter the outcome.
    She flounces off, happy and seemingly unaware of the seriousness of what we’re contemplating. Connor and I lie back on the warming cement slab and look at the endless blue sky above us. We talk a while, but it isn’t long before I hear his breathing become steady during one of the long pauses in our conversation. I turn to see his eyes have closed.
    I sigh and my stomach rumbles in hunger. I’ve got nothing stashed in my pockets and I’m too tired to move. My thoughts keep turning back to my father. The entire concept of him showing up just doesn’t seem to want to settle into my mind.
    There has to be something more to it than just getting caught. He was dirty and dusty and certainly older, but he looked good all the same. His clothes looked nice and his coat was thick and warm, made in a style I’ve never seen around Bailar. His hair was cut neatly and he had no beard, just a few days stubble, so he was clearly able to take care of himself. He didn’t look like a ratty old smuggler or someone who eked out his survival in the wild lands to the north.
    I’d like to keep thinking, keep awake, but the sun is warming the cement and the air is shifting from cool to almost warm. It’s definitely rolling toward spring. It feels good to lie here and Connor’s breathing is calming. I feel sleep coming over me but rather than fight it, I decide it will pass the time and let it take me.
    *****
    Someone shakes me roughly from behind and I groan at the pain in my hip where it meets the cement. I’ve turned to my side, like I do in bed, and tucked myself up into a ball. I roll over to see Cassi squatting between Connor and me. This time she’s shaking him, at least.
    I groan again as I sit up. My body feels as stiff as a board and I’m foggy from sleep. Rubbing my eyes, I say, “I was out like a light.”
    Connor is waking up, confused like he usually is when he sleeps deeply. I look around and am startled to see Jovan standing a few feet away. He’s off the