Read Rebel Online

Authors: Francine Pascal

Rebel

BOOK: Rebel
13.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
FEARLESS

#1 Fearless
#2 Sam
#3 Run
#4 Twisted
#5 Kiss
#6 Payback
#7 Rebel

Available from POCKET PULSE

FEARLESS

REBEL

FRANCINE PASCAL

To Thomas John Pascal Wenk

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An
Original
Publication
of
POCKET BOOKS

POCKET PULSE, published by
Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Produced by 17th Street Productions, Inc.
33 West 17th Street
New York, NY 10011
Copyright © 2000 by Francine Pascal

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address 17th Street Productions, Inc., 33 West 17th Street, New York, NY 10011, or Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

ISBN 0-7434-3411-0
eISBN-13: 978-0-74343411-9

First Pocket Pulse Paperback printing April 2000

Fearless™ is a trademark of Francine Pascal.
POCKET PULSE and colophon are
trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

GAIA

Honesty
is a funny thing. People always tell you that they want you to be honest with them. But they're lying. Nobody wants that. Honesty sucks. That's why the word
honesty
is always preceded by other words, like
brutal
and
painful
.

I keep all of my secrets for just that reason. They'd hurt too much if anybody knew. And I don't mean they would just hurt the people I told. I mean they would hurt me, too.

So I keep them to myself. And it's not all that hard. After all, dishonesty kind of runs in my family.

Just look at my father. He ditched me without ever telling me where he was going or why--and he did it on the worst night of my life. And my uncle has apparently been watching over me my entire life, but he never even bothered to introduce himself. He only shows up when I'm about to get shot in the head or stabbed

by some crazed serial killer. Great, thanks. But I can take care of myself.

Come to think of it, everybody I know seems to hide the truth somehow. Sam. Ella. Even Mary. In fact, the only person I can think of who
doesn't
hide the truth is Ed Fargo. He's honest about everything.

But as far as keeping secrets goes, I have to admit, I really take first prize. I've never told Sam how I feel about him. And that's just scratching the surface. I've never told him or anyone else about my total inability to feel fear. Or why I'm trained to kick almost anyone's ass in about three seconds flat. Or why I'm stuck with George and Ella.

And here's the biggest one of all. I've never told anyone about my dad or about my mother's death. But I have a good reason. If I were totally honest with my friends about my past ... well, I'd put their lives in danger. I

already have. More than once.

Maybe everyone has a reason for hiding the truth. After all, honesty seems to create more problems than it solves. It can hurt. It can even kill. I guess that's why people are afraid of the truth.

But I wouldn't know about that. I'm not afraid of anything.

CHAPTER 1her kind of game

His body went limp. He wouldn't try to move. She knew it. He'd tasted an excruciating pain....

SKELETONS.

The Three Wise Men

That's exactly what the trees in Washington Square Park looked like at this time of night: spindly, grotesque skeletons. At least that was how they looked to Gaia Moore. It was amazing how a place could feel like an amusement park one month and a cemetery the next. But that was New York City. It was constantly changing, and often not for the better. That could be said of a lot of things, actually--Gaia's life included.

"Why does this park totally die right before Christmas?" Mary suddenly asked of nobody in particular.

Gaia smirked. One of the coolest things about Mary Moss was that she had an uncanny knack for saying exactly what Gaia was thinking. She also shared the same
intolerance for bullshit.

"Because there's no action down here," Ed said. His breath made little white clouds in the frigid December air. "The real action is in Midtown. I say we buy some little red suits and pom-pom hats, then go volunteer to be elves outside some big megastore, like Macy's."

"I'm too tall to be an elf," Gaia replied.

"Me too," Mary added.

Ed shrugged. Dead leaves crunched under his

wheelchair. "Then we'll get some fake beards for you guys. Instead of being elves we'll be the three wise men."

Gaia had to laugh. The three wise men. That was funny. A wheelchair-bound ex-skate rat, a female ex-coke addict, and ...
her
. Whatever Gaia was. She probably
could
pass for a man. Easily. She wasn't beautiful and skinny like Mary. Nope. Forget a wise man; Gaia had the body of a prizefighter. She didn't even need the beard. All she needed was a little five o'clock shadow. Now that she thought about it, the only remotely feminine aspect of her appearance was her unkempt mane of blond hair. But there was probably a direct correlation between one's freakish looks and the
swirling mess inside one's head,
wasn't there?

"I guess it's too cold for any Christmas pageantry, anyway," Ed mumbled.

Ed was right. It was too cold for anything. Even chess. Gaia had never seen the park this quiet or deserted. Usually
some
die-hard chess fanatic was out at the tables, trying to hustle a game, no matter what the weather. Like Mr. Haq. Or her old friend Zolov. But Gaia hadn't seen a whole lot of Zolov since he'd been slashed by those neo-Nazi idiots who used to hang around the miniature Arc de Triomphe on the north side.

She almost
wished
a few skinheads were around

just so the place would feel more like home.
In fact, she wouldn't mind at all if one of them jumped out of the shadows and tried to attack her.
She'd walked this park many times for that exact reason. But seeking combat wasn't a group activity. It was something she did on her own. In secrecy. Besides, at this moment she wasn't really craving a good fight. No, what she really missed right now were the sounds and smells of months past: the gurgling of the fountain, the laughter of the NYU students, the sweet odor of roasted peanuts....

Mary abruptly stopped in her tracks.

"You know what? We
should
do something to liven things up." She adjusted her black wool cap and brushed a few wayward red curls out of her eyes. "It's winter break. We're free. I say we create a little excitement of our own."

Gaia met Mary's gaze. She knew that gleam in Mary's green eyes all too well. It whispered:
Let's do something crazy.
And in a way, Gaia could empathize. After all, courting danger was one of her favorite pastimes, too. But Mary's reckless tendencies led down a much more self-destructive path than Gaia's own.

Then again, some people might argue that deliberately looking for fights was
a hell of a lot worse than snorting a big fat line of white powder up your nose.
But Gaia had never paid any attention to other people's opinions. Ever.

"Why don't I like the sound of that at all?" Ed muttered.

Mary laughed. "Come on, you guys. We're here in New York City. By the looks of things, we basically have the place to ourselves." She waved her hands at the empty benches and frozen pavement. "I mean, everyone else is holed up in their apartments or vacationing in the Hamptons or doing whatever it is that normal people do."

"Your point being?" Ed asked.

"That I'm bored!" Mary cried. "I don't do drugs anymore, so I have to find
something
to do, right?" She laughed.

Gaia kept quiet. Unfortunately, the joke wasn't very funny. Mary had only been off cocaine since Thanksgiving, and Gaia knew enough about drugs to know that a lot of addicts relapsed in those first precarious weeks of clean living. Especially when they were bored.

"I don't know," Ed said quietly. He fidgeted in his wheelchair, tapping his gloved fingers on the armrests. "If you ask me, a little boredom is a good thing. Anyway, aren't we supposed to be going to Gaia's house right now?"

Ed was right. They
were
on their way to the Nivens' house (Gaia never thought of it as her own, and she never would), but there was really nothing to do there. Gaia shook her head. Poor Ed. Part of her agreed with

him. Ever since he'd met Gaia, Ed's life had been a little too exciting.
Kidnappings. Serial killers. Random acts of violence.
Part of her wanted to protect him--to shield him from the danger that surrounded her at all times.

But the other part of her--she couldn't ignore-- was just as bored as Mary. Besides, if Mary was looking for a way to keep her mind off drugs, Gaia was all for it. After all, Mary had appointed her to help out with getting involved in "good, clean fun." Whatever that was.

"What do you have in mind?" Gaia asked Mary.

Mary raised her eyebrows. "A little game," she said. She smiled down at Ed, then back at Gaia. "What do you guys think about truth or dare?"

Ed snickered. "Ooh. That sounds
really
exciting. Can we play spin the bottle next?"

BOOK: Rebel
13.21Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Bastard's Tale by Margaret Frazer
My Apocalypse (Book 1): The Fall by Eaton II, Edward J.
Upon A Winter's Night by Harper, Karen
Lie to Me by Nicole L. Pierce
Snow Angel by Jamie Carie
Ready for You by Celia Juliano
The Mummy's Curse by Penny Warner