The Rebuilding Year Read Online Free PDF

been…different. And that shit about squirrels, that’s not Alice. I had to convince her to take the poetry class because she said it was too abstract for her.”
    “Okay.” The girl was thirty feet up now, and the branches were smaller. Still safe enough, but she showed no sign of stopping. “I think you should call 9-1-1. Tell them you think she may be high on some kind of medication, and she’s getting to a risky level in the tree.” He glanced around. A couple of people were headed their way, but not close enough. He dropped his cane and kicked off his shoes. Knew he should have worn better sneakers today.
    “What are you going to do?” the brunette asked, as the blonde pulled out her cell phone.
    “I’m going up after her. Maybe I can talk to her, convince her to come down. Or even grab her if she falls.”
    “Do you think you’re able…?” Her eyes dropped to the cane.
    Ryan hated that, freaking hated it. “Sure. Climbing is all about arm strength.” He reached up and hauled himself skyward.
    The old pine was like a ladder, an easy climb. Except for the needles in his hair, and the rough, sappy texture, it was easier than a ladder. He reached, chinned, braced his right foot on a rung, and repeated. Fast and smooth. If it weren’t for that fool girl, it would almost be fun. It was a long time since he’d done something like this.
    “Alice,” he called. She was ten feet above him now, four sets of branches. He didn’t want to make her slip. “Alice. I’m just going to come up there and join you, okay? I bet the view is great from there. I’m just going to climb up slowly on the other side okay?”
    “The squirrels are jealous of the birds,” Alice said. “Flight is beyond them. But they can come close.” She stood up on a branch where there was a gap in the tree. Holding with one hand above her head, she reached out with the other and leaned into space.
    “Easy there.” Ryan used his best talk-jumpers-off-a-ledge voice. “You don’t want to slip. Why don’t you hold on with both hands, honey.” He slid farther around the trunk, and chinned the next rung. Two more levels.
    She looked down at him and smiled. It was a scary smile, serene and empty. “But that’s why they keep trying. Because next time, they will fly.” And she leaned forward into the space, and let go.
    He lunged for her, grabbing at air. He wasn’t even close. Then he had to make an emergency twist, body arching, to get a hand on solid wood. He was one hand away from following her to the ground. Luckily, since his injury he had put a lot of time into upper-body strength. He hauled upward, got the other hand on, and pulled himself safely against the trunk.
    He didn’t want to look down. But he had to.
    Alice had made it to the grass, taking a couple of branches with her. He remembered the crunches as they broke, as she hit. He didn’t remember the girl making a sound. A group of people were gathered around her crumpled body. One girl was trying mouth-to-mouth, but Ryan had no illusions. You don’t survive a fall like that.
    One person’s face was turned up at him, rather than staring at the dead girl. The groundskeeper, John, was looking up fixedly his way. Ryan sighed, and began the descent. Easier than the climb up, he could just do this hand over hand. As he hit the ground, a newly familiar grasp on his elbow steadied him. “Here.” His cane was placed in his hand.
    “Thanks.” He gripped it and then winced, and inspected his palm. Abrasions and pine sap. “I don’t suppose you have another one of those wipes?”
    “Not on me.”
    Neither one of them was looking over at the small group on the grass. In the distance, a siren swelled, growing quickly louder.
    “I wasn’t fast enough,” Ryan said to his feet, rubbing his sappy hands on his jeans. Bad mistake. They were his favorite jeans. But he couldn’t seem to stop. He worked his shoes back on, balancing carefully with the cane.
    The hand on his elbow