Tremble by Addison Moore Page A

as though the world rides on his timeline. For his sake, I hope it’s his first class of the day, or maybe not. I don’t real y care if they fire him.
    “Morning class.” Skyla.
    I turn ful y around to face Gage, not bothering to acknowledge Marshal ’s private greeting.
    “Logan doesn’t approve of my light driving, as Chloe cal s it, so I don’t let him in on my inter-dimensional jaunts.”
    “I’l take a drive with you again.” His face relaxes at the thought.
    “OK. I need a plan though. Can you help me come up with something that might actual y work to save my dad?”
    “Sorry, no promises.” His dimples ignite, but no smile.
    The heavy scent of cologne wafts over me, then the thick feeling of a person—not quite human, lingering behind my shoulder.
    I turn so fast I bump into Marshal with my knee. An intense glorious feeling runs up and down my bones like a tuning fork. I have to catch my breath from the pleasure of it al . I clasp my hands over the rim of my desk to keep from latching onto him.
    “Excuse me.” He steps over my shoes passing out papers as he goes along.
    I have a surprise for you in my room at four-thirty.
    I have cheer until four-thirty.
    He walks passed my desk again.
    “Looks like I forgot to give you one.” He places the back of his knuckles over the top of my hand, covering us neatly with the outline of the new syl abus.
    Such an intense rush.
    I open my mouth, and a choking sound emits.
    Four-thirty.

    ***

    Wal s of water come down from the sky, sweeping rain, sideways rain. Rain that makes you believe you’re standing on the bottom of the ocean inundates West Paragon.
    It’s dark as evening, the lights in the gym flicker in a cyclical pattern, and it feels like we’re doing our routines by candlelight. The footbal team is adjacent to us running dril s, shouting in unison like an army, which makes it impossible to focus, at least for me. Logan and his half shirt—
    he’s been pumping iron like a prisoner and it shows in so many excel ent ways.
    “I can’t do this.” Michel e grips her midsection. “I’m cutting out early.”
    “Morning sickness?” Briel e whispers over to me with a laugh.
    The bitch squad disbands in unison leaving us to watch Nat and Kate jump and kick like a pair of Energizer bunnies.
    “Oh, guess what?” Briel e squeals.
    She probably scored a C on her lit paper. It doesn’t take much to rile her up with excitement.
    “I’m spending the night, Friday,” she coos.
    “Awesome.” I could real y use some girl time, real y clear my head without…
    “Not with you. Wel , technical y with you.”
    “Oh, I get it.” She’s going to get busy with my step bother. What is it with her and her fascination with nitwits anyway?
    “Oh and I total y want to hear al about your angel thing. I mean do you actual y have wings and stuff? I’ve sort of been waiting for you to bring it up, but since you so rudely didn’t, I’m inviting myself into the conversation.”
    “Wings? No, but I wil Saturday. Come with me to Dudley’s horse ranch. I’m supposed to do some modeling for him.”
    She sucks in a sharp breath.
    “He is so going to try to sleep with you! Modeling…” She chokes on her words. “It’s practical y code for sex.”
    If only she knew how right she was.
    “It’s legit. My mom’s running the ad for him and everything.” Speaking of which, I check my watch.
    Four-thirty.
    I jump to my feet.

    “I gotta run an errand.”

    ***

    Rain fal s like axes, flattening my hair, fil ing my shoes with an inch of water as I slosh into the English building, sopping wet.
    I shake myself off wet dog style, listening to my tennis shoes squeak across the linoleum until I come to Marshal ’s classroom.
    Door’s shut. I can tel by the shadow from under the door that the lights are off. The one who supposedly can’t lie to me turns out to be a big fat liar after al .
    I pivot to go. What if he’s not lying? What if he’s hung himself to prove