The Ghost Runner Read Online Free PDF Page B

It’s nothing more than that. I’m with you now.” I reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I just have a lot on my mind. School and stuff. I’ll see you back in town.”
    â€œI’m not sure this is a good idea,” he says.
    â€œWhy not? These trails are safe now. Roman’s gone. Victor’s gone. There are no vampires left—except for you, right?”
    â€œRight.” I can tell he hates it when I remind him that he’s a vampire, as if it’s all some bad memory he’s been trying to keep in the past. He may be vegan now, free from the blood of other living things, human or otherwise, but there had been many years of violence in his past. And I can see that it weighs on him. We all make mistakes. We all do things we can’t take back. The way I can’t take back the moment I turned my father’s gun on him, the moment it went off. And right now I need to be alone—to prepare myself for the consequences, whatever they may be. While I have no intention of calling my dad, I know he’s not just going to disappear again.
    â€œIt’s not just vampires I worry about, Kat,” he says.
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œBears,” he says, though not very convincingly.
    â€œRight, bears. Compared to a vampire, I’m not all that worried. Go on, Alex, leave me alone for a while. I’ll be fine.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    â€œI’m sure. And maybe later I can help you with the protest signs. I even met someone at school who might want to help. She’s in my environmental class.”
    Alex brightens. “Thanks, Kat. We need all the help we can get.” Alex leans over to hug me but then realizes he’s covered in sweat. So he gives me a salty kiss, which I would enjoy much more if I weren’t so worried about everything else.
    I watch Alex head back down the trail, until he’s out of sight. I know I should head down after him, but instead I just stand there, listening to the sounds of birds bickering and leaves catching hold of the occasional slow breeze. There is a dryness to the air, the smell of dead pine needles, of kindling.
    It hasn’t rained in three months. And, worse, not enough snow fell in the mountains over the winter, which means less water is making its way down Lithia Creek, the town’s main source of water. Sometimes I can hear the creek from this trail—usually it roars over the rocks below, but today it barely whispers. Its silence is unsettling.
    David told me that five years ago, right after he moved to Lithia, he looked up and saw flames on the hills right above town. Fortunately, the winds died down before the flames threatened homes—but if they’d picked up from the west, the fire would’ve raced right down into town. It’s part of the price people in Lithia pay to live here, David said: a little anxiety in the dry years.
    Anxiety: Why did I think I’d ever be free of it? I begin to walk down the trail, thinking back to that moment on campus with my dad. I remember looking around at the students passing by, looking for police hiding behind trees, waiting to arrest me. But all around me, life was normal. For all anyone knew, I was just another student meeting her father for lunch on campus. If only they really knew what was happening: a daughter coming face-to-face with the man she thought she had killed.
    But my father didn’t say anything about that. And that’s one reason I’m afraid to meet him. He said, I want to talk , and I could not say, About what? I didn’t want to hear the answer.
    I’d fled back to where I’d left Lucy, yet I couldn’t concentrate on the paper we were working on; I kept looking around, worried he’d followed me. What’s the matter? she kept asking, and I finally told her that I didn’t feel well and had to go home. I regretted it later: There she was, my first school friend, and now