The Bone Artists Read Online Free PDF Page B

to make the whole thing easier to bear.
    Micah’s place of work didn’t actually look anything like a dojo. Itlooked like the kind of blah storefront in a strip mall that might have once been a furniture warehouse or a doughnut shop. All but two windows were frosted over, but you could walk by and peer inside at whoever was chopping or kicking the air. Oliver was early—well, technically he wasn’t anything, since Micah wasn’t expecting him—and so two rows of little kids, swimming in their starchy white outfits, were still doing their best to punch at nothing under Micah’s instruction.
    Oliver pulled into the narrow parking lot and stopped the car under a flickering streetlamp. The electric glow of the strip mall was plenty, but some well-meaning city planner had tried to gussy up the place with cutesy benches and lamps, green, quaint, like there weren’t a grimy tobacco store and an AutoZone in plain view.
    He grabbed his phone and blanked out the message. He’d read it later, when he wasn’t feeling so scattered. Sighing, he pulled open the dash compartment and took out the roll of cash, just holding it. Just feeling it. It felt heavy, and he knew exactly why. He shoved it back in the compartment and glanced up at Micah, wondering what two grand meant to the guy. Of course he had applied to colleges, too, some heavy hitters, in fact, but everything in Micah’s life just seemed so breezy. So easy. His grades weren’t the best but he usually got them bumped up by magical extra-credit projects wheedled out of exasperated teachers. He volunteered. He worked. His teachers could hardly blame him for missing an assignment now and again. Didn’t make much money so he found a way to get more. Wink and a smile. Sure, they were essentially grave robbers now but it was two grand. Things would work themselves out.
    Maybe Oliver could fix his attitude and whistle a merry tune for five thousand dollars.
    Maybe.
    A hard, quick tapping came at the driver’s side window. Oliver jumped and shrieked, not in a manly fashion, feeling his heart jam into his throat as he turned and saw a silhouette at the window. His pulse calmed a little when he found it was Diane, Sabrina’s older sister, leaning over and peeking in at him.
    â€œHey, stranger,” she said as he rolled down the window to talk to her. “You waiting on Micah?”
    â€œYeah. Hey, let me get out of this thing. Stuffy in here.”
    Great. Diane. Not someone he was hoping to meet here. He grabbed his phone and ducked out of the car, locking up and following her to the sidewalk outside the dojo. She leaned against the glass, smirking as she watched the mini martial artists inside. Taller and leaner than her sister, Diane also had way more hair. Sabrina tended to keep hers shaved or incredibly short, and she had piercings where Diane kept a neutral, almost preppy look. Diane was pretty, smart . . . Exactly Micah’s type.
    â€œHaven’t seen you in a while,” Diane said, sipping from a half-empty diet soda.
    â€œBeen busy. Shop gets crazy this time of year. Dad gets me to take just about every shift I can,” he replied. “Aren’t you taking classes up at City Park?”
    â€œCulinary stuff, uh-huh.” She pulled her attention away from the kids. “Sabrina says you got into the school you wanted. That’s big. Congrats.”
    â€œHey, thanks.” He grinned. “You know, it’s nice to hear that. Haven’t gotten to tell my old man yet. He was a wreck when I wasfilling out applications. I only got him to calm down because I said the whole thing was a long shot. Not sure he believed me.”
    â€œUgh. I hear that. It’s always the same with that family business bullcrap,” Diane said with a roll of the eyes. “Mom woulda never gotten out of Baton Rouge if Granny hadn’t died. Family business? More like family cult.”
    Oliver nodded,