Home > The Host (The Host #1)(91)

The Host (The Host #1)(91)
Author: Stephenie Meyer

“Later. I’m not going to bug Jeb tonight.”

“What is Jeb doing?”

Jamie didn’t answer. It was only at that point I realized he had deliberately not answered my question the first time. There was something he didn’t want to tell me. Maybe the others were busy trying to find me, too. Maybe Jared’s homecoming had returned them to their original opinion about me. It had seemed that way in the kitchen, when they’d hung their heads and eyed me with furtive guilt.

“What’s going on, Jamie?” I pressed.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he muttered. “And I’m not going to.” His arms wrapped tightly around my waist, and his face pressed against my shoulder. “Everything is going to be all right,” he promised me, his voice thick.

I patted his back and ran my fingers through his tangled mane. “Okay,” I said, agreeing to accept his silence. After all, I had my secrets, too, didn’t I? “Don’t be upset, Jamie. Whatever it is, it will all work out for the best. You’re going to be fine.” As I said the words, I willed them to be true.

“I don’t know what to hope for,” he whispered.

As I stared into the dark at nothing in particular, trying to understand what he wouldn’t say, a faint glow caught my eye at the far end of the hallway—dim but conspicuous in the black cave.

“Shhh,” I breathed. “Someone is coming. Quick, hide behind the boxes.”

Jamie’s head snapped up, toward the yellow light that was getting brighter by the second. I listened for the accompanying footsteps but heard nothing.

“I’m not going to hide,” he breathed. “Get behind me, Wanda.”

“No!”

“Jamie!” Jared shouted. “I know you’re back here!”

My legs felt hollow, numb. Did it have to be Jared? It would be so much easier for Jamie if Kyle were the one to kill me.

“Go away!” Jamie shouted back.

The yellow light sped up and turned into a circle on the far wall.

Jared stalked around the corner, the flashlight in his hand sweeping back and forth across the rock floor. He was clean again, wearing a faded red shirt I recognized—it had hung in the room where I’d lived for weeks and so was a familiar sight. His face was also familiar—it wore exactly the same expression it had since the first moment I’d shown up here.

The beam of the flashlight hit my face and blinded me; I knew the light reflected brilliantly off the silver behind my eyes, because I felt Jamie jump—just a little start, and then he set himself more firmly than before.

“Get away from it!” Jared roared.

“Shut up!” Jamie yelled back. “You don’t know her! Leave her alone!”

He clung to me while I tried to unlock his hands.

Jared came on like a charging bull. He grabbed the back of Jamie’s shirt with one hand and yanked him away from me. He held on to his handful of fabric, shaking the boy while he yelled.

“You’re being an idiot! Can’t you see how it’s using you?”

Instinctively, I shoved myself into the tight space between them. As I’d intended, my advance made him drop Jamie. I didn’t want or need what else happened—the way his familiar smell assaulted my senses, the way the contours of his chest felt under my hands.

“Leave Jamie alone,” I said, wishing for once that I could be more like Melanie wanted me to be—that my hands could be hard now, that my voice could be strong.

He snatched my wrists in one hand and used this leverage to hurl me away from him, into the wall. The impact caught me by surprise, knocked the breath out of me. I rebounded off the stone wall to the floor, landing in the boxes again, making another crinkly crash as I shredded through more cellophane.

The pulse thudded in my head as I lay awkwardly bent over the boxes, and for a moment, I saw strange lights pass in front of my eyes.

“Coward!” Jamie screamed at Jared. “She wouldn’t hurt you to save her own life! Why can’t you leave her alone?”

I heard the boxes shifting and felt Jamie’s hands on my arm. “Wanda? Are you okay, Wanda?”

“Fine,” I huffed, ignoring the throbbing in my head. I could see his anxious face hovering over me in the glow of the flashlight, which Jared must have dropped. “You should go now, Jamie,” I whispered. “Run.”

Jamie shook his head fiercely.

“Stay away from it!” Jared bellowed.

I watched as Jared grabbed Jamie’s shoulders and yanked the boy up from his crouch. The boxes this displaced fell on me like a small avalanche. I rolled away, covering my head with my arms. A heavy one caught me right between the shoulder blades, and I cried out in pain.

“Stop hurting her!” Jamie howled.

There was a sharp crack, and someone gasped.

I struggled to pull myself out from under the heavy carton, rising up on my elbows dizzily.

Jared had one hand over his nose, and something dark was oozing down over his lips. His eyes were wide with surprise. Jamie stood in front of him with both hands clenched into fists, a furious scowl on his face.

Jamie’s scowl melted slowly while Jared stared at him in shock. Hurt took its place—hurt and a betrayal so deep that it rivaled Jared’s expression in the kitchen.

“You aren’t the man I thought you were,” Jamie whispered. He looked at Jared as though Jared were very far away, as if there were a wall between them and Jamie was utterly isolated on his side.

Jamie’s eyes started to swim, and he turned his head, ashamed of showing weakness in front of Jared. He walked away with quick, jerky movements.

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