Under Different Stars Read Online Free PDF Page B

and I nod my head in agreement. “So the men on the train were telling the truth?”
    “Yes, Trey was one of the ones on the train, but the one in the bar, Kyon, lied,” I say, paling.
    “What did he say?” Enrique asks, his brows pushing down.
    “He was truthful when he said they wanted to take me to my family, but he lied when he said they were my friends,” I explain, feeling ill.
    “So, no glad tidings from home?” Michael asks. I shake my head slowly. “When did your parents die?”
    “When I was young—five…I remember them a little, but it was just us, no one else.” My mother’s beautiful platinum hair flitters through my memory. “I can’t recall any other family…I don’t know what these men are talking about.” I drop my chin, not looking at them because I’ve always hidden my odd characteristics from others. I’ve never told Enrique about how my hair re-grows instantly because there’s been no good explanation for it.
    Enrique’s expression becomes one of resolve. “Kricket, you’re coming home with me and we’ll figure out what to do. Do they know where you live?”
    “Yeah…Kyon, that’s the one at Lumin. He must’ve known because I live right above there,” I reply in a raspy voice. “Luther shot him.” My throat begins to close as the shock of what happened is now wearing off. “The police are probably looking for me. I left my backpack there. They’ll find everything I’ve worked so hard to hide.” I think of the keys to my apartment. Someone from the bar will tell them where I’ve been living, believing that they’re helping me.
    Tears that I can’t hold back fill my eyes. Reaching across the table, Enrique takes my hand. “Maybe we should go to the police station. Maybe you’ll be safer with them.
    Pulling my hand back from his grasp, I wipe my eyes on the back of my fists, feeling embarrassed by my tears. “It depends on where they put me. Since I’m a runaway, I’ll probably be put into corrections. If that happens, I probably won’t last until my birthday,” I say honestly.
    “Why not?” Michael frowns.
    “’Cuz I look like Barbie.” I reply, knowing they can connect the dots.
    “Bad girls don’t like Barbie?” Michael asks, both his eyebrows rising.
    “No. Bad girls want to rip Barbie’s head off and flush it down the toilet,” I state emphatically, with a half grimace. “I might have a chance in a fight if it’s one-on-one, but that rarely happens. Usually, it’s a pack and they have someone distract the guards. You can see it coming and have no way to stop it.”
    “What do you mean?” Enrique’s mouth is open in shock. I lift up my shirt, exposing my abdomen and show them the scar in my side. Enrique gasps, putting both his hands to his mouth.
    “Shank,” I say, running my fingers over the ugly crescent scar, “made from a plastic comb that was sharpened to a knife’s edge. They cornered me in the Rec. Room after the social worker left with their friend who pretended to be sick. I can’t go back. I really need your help,” I plead quietly.
    “You got it, sister,” Enrique assures me, looking from me to Michael with a “holy crap” expression on his face. “Listen, I’ll pay for the coffee while Michael goes and hails a cab. You just sit tight here.”
    Tears brighten my eyes at his words. Unable to answer him, I nod my head. Reaching across the table, he grasps my hand and squeezes it before letting it go. Michael and Enrique rise from the booth, moving toward the cashier at the front of the diner.
    Following Enrique with my eyes, I watch him walk casually by a booth at the front of the restaurant that contains two men. Feeling the hair on the back of my neck begin to rise, I recognize the violet gaze from the man on the train—Jax. Feeling like I’m moving in slow motion, I get up from my seat, backing away from the front of the restaurant.
    Jax and the other one from the train immediately follow me. I glance at Enrique,