Never a Hero by Vanessa Len EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Vanessa Len
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Fantasy Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
‘Don’t you slow down!’ the coach shouted. One of the boys had turned up
late, and now the whole football team was suffering for it. From the fence
line, Joan watched them stumble past in yet another lap. Most of the boys
were gasping, but at the front of the pack, Nick’s pace was steady, as if he
could have kept this up for days.
Go home, Joan told herself. She’d been weak today. She’d walked down
here after school, hoping for a glimpse of him. Well, now she’d had it, and
as always it felt like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t remember you. He
doesn’t know you anymore.
‘All right!’ the coach shouted. ‘I think you’ve had enough.’
There were groans of relief, and the boys staggered to a stop. Some
dropped to the ground, exhausted. Others grasped their knees, trying to
catch their breath. Still a few strides ahead, Nick slowed to a jog, and then
turned to walk back to his teammates.
He glanced idly toward the fence. Joan’s heart stuttered as his gaze
skated over and beyond her without interest or recognition.
‘Nick!’ one of the boys panted from the ground. ‘You gotta keep up,
mate. Team captain can’t be trailing behind us all the time.’
Nick laughed and went over to help the boy up. ‘Need a hand, Jameson?’
‘I need a defibrillator,’ the boy grumbled. But he gripped Nick’s offered
hand and struggled up.
Joan’s breath caught at Nick’s unguarded smile. He’d always been so
solemn when she’d known him. He’d had the world on his shoulders. It
occurred to Joan now that she didn’t know him anymore either—not this
Nick.
She felt that familiar pang of longing for the boy who wasn’t here. She
suppressed it ruthlessly. That Nick was gone, and she shouldn’t want him
back. This was Nick as he should have been. A guy with an ordinary life.
Go home, she told herself again. And this time, she hefted her schoolbag
higher and turned away from the fence.
It was mid-November, and the trees were nearly bare. Cold cut through
Joan’s trousers as she walked across the empty school grounds. After hours,
the whole place had an abandoned quality. The teachers’ car park was
desolate—all concrete and patchy weeds. Joan made her way through it,
past the library and down to the back field.
Joan’s phone buzzed: a message from Dad. Nearly home? I made
pineapple tarts. A photo arrived. Flaky pastries cooling on a rack. Look
professional, huh?!
He’d been checking in on Joan a lot lately; he knew something was
wrong. ‘You seem really quiet,’ he’d said to her last night. ‘Everything okay
at school? With your friends?’
Sometimes, Joan wished she could just tell him the truth.
Gran died, Dad. They all died. Gran and Aunt Ada and Uncle Gus and
Bertie.
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