Towering Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the ground, scraping my hands and knees. I lay there, struggling, in pain, smelling the wet dirt around me and thinking how stupid I was. I’ve lived here my whole life, know every rock and root, including the one I’d tripped on. How could I fall?
    Thinking back, I wonder if it was MEANT to happen.
    When I tried to pull myself up on the trunk of that same malevolent old tree, I found that not only had I scraped my leg—I’d also twisted it somehow. In my paranoid mind, it felt broken. I couldn’t walk at all. I contemplated my situation—could I send Ginger back to tell Mom somehow? Considering she wasn’t actually like dogs in movies who did that, probably not. As I thought about this, Ginger began to bark. I looked up to see what she was barking at.
    It was a man. Or, really, a guy around my own age, the very same guy I’d seen outside our house a week ago. The one Mom had seen fit to imprison me for looking at. He was about ten feet away, but he walked closer.
    I tried to push myself up. Competing instincts warred with each other. A stranger on a deserted road could be a rapist or a serial killer or both. Yet, I knew I couldn’t run and, what’s more, I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Not only has it been weeks since I’ve seen anyone but my mother—it may have been YEARS since I’ve seen anyone new. No one new comes to Slakkill. Why would they? Everyone has been here forever. And don’t they say you’re most likely to get murdered by someone you know?
    Of course, it didn’t hurt that this guy was gorgeous. As he came closer, I could see that he was tall with white-blond hair that glowed in the morning light. His walk, too, was different than anything I’d ever seen. People in Slakkill walked quickly and with hunched shoulders, as if they were cringing from the constant cold or just weighed down by their pointless lives. The only exceptions were the jocks, who walked with a swagger that revealed they didn’t realize they were someday going to end up as beer-bellied car salesmen, like their dads. This guy had neither. He looked open. And, did I mention cute?
    Even Ginger must have noticed because she stopped barking as he approached. In fact, she trotted up to him and licked his hand like she knew him.
    “Hey, girl.” He petted her head.
    “That dog would kill you soon as look at you,” I joked.
    “I can see she’s very protective.” He laughed. His eyes were the brightest blue I’d ever seen, the color of the ice-blue mint cough drops Mom used to give me when I had a cold. He held his hand out. “Can I help you?”
    I started to take it then hesitated. I knew nothing about this guy. Yet, what choice did I have? I was injured, stranded someplace where a car passed maybe every few hours. Mom was inside, probably watching General Hospital. Did I refuse his offer and try to crawl to safety? Even Ginger, my supposed line of defense, was now happily sniffing the guy’s very cute butt.
    “I’m not going to abduct you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
    But wouldn’t he say that even if he was?
    “You just looked like you could use some help. I could go away and call the volunteer fire fighters, and they’d be here in an hour or so. It’s just, the situation has sort of a romantic quality, like the novels girls like—a fair young maiden takes a tumble and a handsome young man comes to her rescue.”
    I said, “You consider yourself handsome, do you?”
    “Is there any question.” He grinned. “Can I help you up?”
    I tried one last time to push myself up, then winced. I decided to take a chance. “Yes, please.”
    I grasped his hand. It felt hard, calloused, a man’s hand. But when I tried to stand, I yelped in pain.
    “You probably shouldn’t put weight on it,” he said, and then, before I could protest (even if I would have), he scooped me up in his arms and started to carry me away.
    “Wait. Where are you taking me?”
    “Just my car.”
    “Your car?” I saw an old blue