Fathom by L. Standage (spanish books to read .TXT) 📕

Most people would leap at a chance for their picture to spread like wildfire. I just wanted to crawl into a cave. After punching Brock Mallory in the face.

“You want some more chips?” asked Sam.

“No thanks.”

“You want to watch a movie?”

“Not really.”

“Ugh, come on, Liv, I’m bored.”

I was bored too, but mostly I wished I could go to every convenience and grocery store in Southern California and burn all the tabloids with my picture on it. It wouldn’t do any good on the internet articles though.

“I wonder if I can ask for one of those newspaper apology things,” I said out loud.

“Huh?”

“For printing my picture. Isn’t that illegal or something? Some kind of privacy infringement?”

“I have no idea. I can’t believe you’re still worrying about it.”

I frowned. “You'd worry too if your face was on hundreds of cheap magazines. If it goes viral…”

Sam sighed in annoyance. “Even if it does, nothing is going to happen. No one knows who’s in the picture! Let’s go back to the beach; the sun is going to set soon, and I want to take more pictures. We can get your mind off this crap.”

I shrugged. “Fine.”

She jumped up from the couch. “I’ll get my camera.”

“Don’t forget to bring an extra memory card!” I said as I got up from the couch too. As I went toward the front door, I paused in front of a mirror hung on the wall in the entryway. I studied my reflection for a moment. Then I reached up and pulled out my ponytail. Yeah, okay—I guess with my hair falling down my back and over my shoulders, I could pass as a mermaid. I huffed and rolled my eyes at the thought.

Soon, Sam and I arrived at the beach. I sought solace by staring at the horizon while she took picture after picture of it.

She gasped. “Liv, there he is.”

“Who?”

“Hottie McScottie.”

I whipped my head around. My heart fluttered without my permission.

“Where?” I asked before my brain could catch up and tell me to quit being stupid.

Sam lowered her lens and pointed up the beach. “Over there, next to that red-headed chick.” I spotted him. He stood in the same spot we had seen him before, talking to a woman with long red hair. A familiar woman.

“Samantha, that lady he’s with was at the grocery store.”

“Yeah? Huh. Well, you’re way hotter than she is.”

“That’s not what I—oh, never mind.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit.” She nodded. “Ah, look at the light on the water!” She resumed her camerawork.

Good. We were done with it. I glanced back up the beach to “Hottie McScottie” and his companion. They stood a few feet apart, arms folded. She drank from a gallon-sized water bottle. He pointed at the sand and gestured across the beach. I looked away, then looked back. A group of three guys holding surfboards walked in between, blocking my line of sight. One of them had feathery blond hair. My stomach simmered with anger.

“Samantha,” I said, tapping her arm. “Look.”

Camera still held up, she peered around. Brock spotted me and stopped. For a second, we stood there. He shifted his feet, averted his gaze. I scowled. Sam let her camera rest around her neck. A wicked smile spread across her face.

“So you’re Brock Mallory,” she said with a grin. Brock’s friends stopped walking. Brock stared at me. His eyes darted from my face, to my legs, and back again.

“What, no camera this time?” I asked scathingly as I folded my arms.

He looked at my legs again. His friends grinned and rested the end of their surfboards in the sand. I ignored them and glared at Brock.

“Why’d you take my picture?” I asked. Brock’s friends both gazed at me with matching puzzled frowns. Brock, on the other hand, swallowed and scratched his head.

“You guys go ahead, I’ll catch you later,” he said to his friends.

“Wanna come with us?” one of them asked Sam. She smiled.

“Just for a sec, I guess. I’m Samantha.” They wandered away from us as Sam made small talk with her new little friends.

I raised my eyebrows at Brock, waiting for an answer to my question. He looked, yet again, at my legs. He brought his eyes back up to my face slowly, taking his time to gaze over my body. I ground my teeth.

“What are you?” he asked, his voice low. I wasn’t sure if I heard him right.

“Huh?”

“I mean, who are you?”

“Answer my question first.”

“I, uh—I just…who are you? How did you…” He trailed off with a disbelieving shake of the head.

I stared at his face, his eyes fearful and adamant. His lips hung half-open and he still kept glancing at my legs.

No way. It wasn’t possible. Was he serious? Had too many hours surfing under the sun somehow baked his brain? I had to make sure, so I played along.

“So, um…” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh “I guess you know my secret.”

He continued staring. I had to bite my lips together.

“I knew it,” he said. “Everyone said he was crazy, but I knew one day…” He trailed off and shifted his grip on the surfboard.

“Who?”

He shook his head. “Just my dad. He’s obsessed. But never mind.”

“Why did you think taking my picture and sending it to a cheap tabloid would be a good idea?” Then, with a stroke of inspiration and a desire to freak him out, I added, “You must have known it would upset…us.” I almost said me but at the last second thought us would sound more threatening. Brock’s eyes got wider.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Obviously.”

“So, what happens now? What are you doing here?”

“Is it any of your business?”

“Nah, I was just…uh, what’s your name?”

I paused for a second. “Olivia.”

He smiled. “That’s pretty.”

Oh, please.

“Thanks,” I said insincerely.

His smile widened. “How long do you have?”

“How long do I have for what?”

“Until you, you know”—his voice dropped as he leaned closer to me, nodding his head to the ocean—“go home.”

He was serious! I snorted, then tried to make it look