Echoes Marissa Lete (best ereader for students .TXT) 📖

to the idea that the stained glass vase is the same one from the first echo. It’s the only real, physical evidence I have from the echoes I’ve been hearing lately. It makes me feel like there’s some possible way these things actually did happen and it’s not just all in my head. I use that hope to get me through the rest of the evening.

 

Chapter 7

The next morning, I walk out to my car a little bit earlier than I need to leave. I’ve decided that I’m going to figure out what’s going on in the past, and that the best way to do it is to try and listen to as many of my own echoes as I can. I’d heard myself run into Maverick one morning, so I imagine it’s bound to happen again, and I want to make sure I’m there for it. So I wait outside in the brisk morning air, listening for the sounds of myself leaving. I sigh in disappointment when I hear the car engine starting, then driving away. Maybe next time.

As I’m backing out of the driveway, I glance over at the abandoned house across the street and a thought pops into my head. If Maverick exists, and he used to live at that house, there’s got to be lots of echoes inside, sounds that could give me more information about the stuff I’ve been hearing. If I could just get inside…

I shake my head. I’m not ready to cross the breaking and entering line quite yet. But I tuck the idea away somewhere safe, in case I need it later.

When I get to school, there’s a squishy white convertible parked in my regular spot. I pull my car up next to it and Grace rolls the window down, flashing a grin at me.

“No. Way.” My jaw drops.

“It finally happened! The Beast is gone forever!” she exclaims.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I squeal, jumping out of my car and half-running to the passenger side. I open the door and slide into the dark leather seat next to her.

“I wanted to surprise you!”

“This. Is. Insane.”

“Right? We’re taking it for a ride after school.”

“I’ve never wanted to skip school as bad as I do right now.”

“Seriously, though. Too bad we have that Chemistry test.”

My eyes widen. “Wait, what?”

“The test. In Chemistry.” Grace raises an eyebrow at me. “You seriously didn’t forget, did you?”

I slap my forehead, realization hitting me. “I must have written the date down wrong. I thought it wasn’t until Friday.”

Grace grimaces. “That really sucks. But hey, maybe I’ll finally do better than you.”

I roll my eyes, then open the door. “Time to panic study, wanna come?” I ask.

“Panic studying is my favorite kind,” she grins.

When we get into the classroom, I pull out the study guide I’d prepared over the weekend and start reading through it as quickly as I can. Unfortunately, the bell rings before I get to the second page, and then Mrs. Andrews is telling us to put away our notes. Her echo from last year begins a lecture, and I silently wish that last year’s class during this period had been Chemistry instead of Biology. Perhaps then I might be able to listen in and get some help for my test. But instead, the echoes are simply a nuisance like usual, not a cool superpower that can actually help me out for once. I’ll just have to try my best to tune them out.

“Good luck,” Grace whispers to me just before Mrs. Andrews comes by to hand us our tests. I give her a thumbs up and a nervous smile.

I get to work, and after struggling with the first few questions, I start to feel more confident, remembering things from class as I work out the problems.

Until a sudden, blaring noise fills the air.

I jolt in my seat, startled, and end up knocking my pencil off the desk. It rolls across the floor, out of reach. The noise continues, and I look around, disoriented. It takes several seconds for me to figure out what’s going on.

A fire alarm.

But no one in the classroom is moving.

Because it isn’t from today.

I rub my temples, squeezing my eyes shut. No, no, no. Not today. Not right now. How long does a fire drill last? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? I glance at the clock, realizing that I only have thirty minutes left to finish the test. And I’m not even halfway through.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I spin around to face Macy Blackburn, a girl I don’t know very well. She holds my pencil out to me with raised eyebrows. I pluck it from her fingers and mutter a soft “thank you,” turning around before she can notice the blush forming on my cheeks. She must have seen me jump at the noise of the fire alarm. The noise that she can’t hear.

Crazy. I must look crazy.

I lean forward, resting my head on my palm, and try to stare at the paper in front of me.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A chemical equation. All I have to do is balance it. Easy.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The next question is about covalent bonds. I remember reading about those.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Or am I thinking of ionic bonds?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

By the time the fire alarms stop, Mrs. Andrews is already collecting the tests. I scribble out an answer to the second-to-last question, knowing fully well that it’s going to be wrong, but hoping I’ll get points for at least attempting it.

When we get into the hallway after class, I can only think of five words to describe how the test went. “I did not do well,” I say.

“Guess you should have studied last night,” Grace replies. That, and I shouldn’t