Seconds Before Sunrise (The Timely Death Trilogy) by Shannon A. Thompson Page A

happened because he tried to leave?”
    “Want my honest answer?”
    “Yes.”
    “I do,” he said.
    My father’s sigh bordered on a groan. “Me, too.”
    “But it doesn’t mean anything,” Jonathon rambled. “It doesn’t change anything.”
    “It means he can’t run,” my father said, and someone began pacing.
    “He doesn’t need to run,” Jonathon said, but his voice was quiet. “Does he?”
    My father hesitated. “No.”
    “Eric’s right,” Jonathon said. “You’re a horrible liar.”
    My father laughed again. “I’m not lying. I’m just worried.”
    “You’re allowed to be.” Apparently, my best friend was my father’s counselor. “ This isn’t working as we thought it would.”
    “I don ’t know what to do about Jess,” my father confessed. “She loves him, even if she doesn’t know it.” My father paused and so did the pacing. “It’s still strange to see them together,” he muttered. “It’s the only time I see Eric act like my son. I’m afraid he won’t be able to hold back, that he’ll remind her—”
    “I won’t tell her,” I said, finally opening my eyes. My father seemed much taller standing when I was lying down.
    “Eric,” he scorned. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
    “I’m almost asleep,” I said. “Does that count?”
    He folded his arms across his chest. “You shouldn’t be listening to our conversations.”
    “Maybe you shouldn’t have them in my room,” I suggested.
    M y father rubbed his chin, trying to conceal his grin. “You and your eavesdropping.”
    “Me and my eavesdropping,” I repeated. “When will I ever stop?”
    My father masked his laughter as he sat down next to Jonathon. “I don’t know where you got that attitude, but if you got it from your mother, I’ll be sure to say something when I see her again.”
    It was the first time he had mentioned my mother since she died, and I turned away from him. I didn’t like to think about how she died, how she committed suicide and left us here to deal with the prophecy. I barely remembered her. It was almost like she hadn’t existed, but I thought about her more and more the closer the Marking of Change got.
    Rustling interrupted the tension. “Mindy dropped these off earlier,” Jonathon said, lifting a plate covered in tinfoil. “Lemon cakes.”
    My mouth watered. “I love those things,” I said, reaching for them.
    M y father placed them on the counter. “You’ll only get sick on this sugar right now,” he said. “You need to rest.”
    “C an I have one after?”
    “You can eat them when you get home.”
    “That’s in tw o days,” I whined.
    “Two days it is then.”
    My only hope was crushed by protective wrap. “This is cruel,” I mumbled.
    Jonathon snatched one and stuffed it into his mouth. “Sorry,” he spoke, showing off the dessert I was supposed to eat.
    I groaned. “I cannot wait to get out of here.”
    “That makes two of us,” my father agreed.
    Jonathon pumped his fist into the air. “Three.”
    We laughed, and my ribs stung.
    Before I knew it, I woul d be home, but it wouldn’t be the home I was used to. I would no longer be able to participate in the Dark. I would have to heal my human body until the doctors cleared me before I could transform. If I didn’t, my identity would be risked. I needed to heal fast enough to train before the battle. If not, I would be stuck with what I already knew, and I was sure Darthon would know more than me. I wouldn’t win.

     
    Jessica
     
    When I walked into art class the next day, the painting was finished. Purple streaks dripped from the sky, and swirls of blue melted through the twists like liquid sapphires. Every aspect of my painting was how I’d left it except for one thing − the sky reflected off of a river, and not just any river. It was the river from the forest.
    The piece represented every emotion of my flying dream. Every inch of the painting meant something, and the canvas was