Winter Longing Read Online Free PDF

me.
    After that, Mom didn’t push me to come downstairs or eat. She did, however, bring up a bowl of potato soup (my favorite) and fresh-baked bread. She left the tray on my desk, where it remained untouched.
    The moon shone bright and huge in the sky. I’d slept so much during the day that my body now refused me that escape. I let my eyes roam my room, covered with movie posters. Pride and Prejudice , 300 , Titanic , X-Men , Lord of the Rings . Basically any movie in which the story and the costumes made a winning combination.
    But while they’d often given me inspiration for my own costume designs, now they hung there: lifeless, reminders of a me that that no longer existed.
    I slid my aching body out of bed and onto the floor in front of my bookshelves. I ran my fingertips over the spines of the many titles I’d bought at Tundra Books, the bookstore owned by Spencer’s parents. I’d memorized long ago what Spencer had written inside each book.
    I caressed the title along the edge of Prince Caspian . I closed my eyes, could see Spencer’s handwriting inside.
    “Wish you, Lindsay, and I could travel to Narnia.”
    My fingers traveled to the next several books, the complete Anne of Green Gables collection Spencer had gotten me for my twelfth birthday. I opened the first, to one of the blank pages at the beginning. My heart ached as I looked at the quote from the book I’d read over and over again until it was burned into my memory.
    “I think you may be a kindred spirit after all. Happy birthday. Love, Spencer.”
    It was the first time the word love had traveled between us.
    Next, I pulled a photo album from the end of the shelf. I didn’t think my heart could ache any more, but seeing all the happy photos of Spencer made me feel as if the world had ended.
    For Spencer, it had. No more smiles. No more happy photos. No more telling me—or anyone else—that he loved me.
    God, how could a life like Spencer’s just . . . end ?
    When I woke late in the morning, I was still on the floor, one arm cradling the album. Someone had draped a blanket over me: Lindsay, at least according to the note she’d left next to two strawberry pastries.
    “I stopped by this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you. See you after school. Luv you.”
    School? She was going to school? I read the words again, but they still made no sense.
    Lindsay’s familiar handwriting stared up at me, and I hated myself for wishing she’d stay away. I’d thought she was hurting, too, but if she were, how could she go back? Going back was inconceivable to me. I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone. All I wanted was to cocoon myself in this room and never emerge.
    My stomach growled at the sight of the pastries. Even though they were no longer piping hot, I found myself reaching for one. Apparently, my body’s instinct to survive wouldn’t be denied.
    My cell phone rang, and I grabbed it, desperately hoping to see Spencer’s name.
    But it was the school’s number. It had to be Lindsay, who didn’t have a cell of her own. I turned the phone off when the beep told me she’d left a message, then I pitched it at the thick red carpet.
    I spent the day curled in my overstuffed red chair in the corner next to the window, my feet propped on the matching ottoman. I looked through my photo albums at least a dozen times.
    I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in my room this long without popping in a DVD, but those fictional stories no longer held any allure, not even any chance at escape.
    Mom came in with a chicken-salad sandwich and chips around lunchtime. She must have thought I was asleep, because she slid the plate onto my desk and walked quietly back toward the door.
    “You didn’t go to work,” I accused.
    “No. I wanted to be here for you.”
    I should have told her I was fine, but I couldn’t. It was too big of a lie.
    Neither of us seemed to know what to say next, so she offered me a weak smile and walked back out.
    But what was