Under the Viaduct by H. Anderson (english books to improve english TXT) 📕

cars down. Kaylee wandered in that direction, looking for the ride-share sticker in the window. The license plate number matched. She smiled and waved at the driver. He rolled the window down. “Kaylee?”

“Yes.”

“Here,” he opened his door, “let me get your stuff. Go ahead and get in.”

The hour drive was pleasant, the driver had asked if this was her first visit to New York, and after she said yes, he was great to point out interesting landmarks to her. He frowned as they entered the neighborhood of her hotel. “This isn’t the best area. Are you sure you don’t want to find other lodgings? I’ll take you somewhere else for no extra charge.”

Kaylee stared out the window at the dirty streets, the bars on the windows of businesses and dwellings alike, and the groups of rough looking people standing around—smoking, arguing, staring back at her. This had been the only hotel she could afford that was close to Mama C’s old school. She bit her lip. “I…I’ll be okay. I don’t plan on being out after dark.” The confidence she’d exhibited when telling Blayne that same thing, now felt like melting slush on the side of a dirt road.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He turned right and pulled up to a drop off area in front of a seedy looking hotel—only half of the lights on the sign out front lit up. “At least let me carry your bag inside for you.” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He turned off the engine, got her bag out of the back, and walked with her into the hotel lobby.

“Thank you,” she smiled at him. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Please be careful.”

She laughed nervously. “Now you sound like my boy…my friend. I’ll be careful.”

When she got to her room, she latched the door with all the locks provided. She wrinkled her nose as she inspected the small space. “I hope I don’t get bedbugs.” The place had a musty, moldy odor about it. The tiny bathroom proved where that smell came from. Mold climbed up the shower tile and onto the ceiling. “Or some sort of fungal disease.”

She’d planned on going for a walk to find somewhere to eat dinner, but her heart raced at the thought of stepping outside alone. Maybe Blayne had been right to be worried. She ended up calling a delivery service and eating a cold burger and fries on the bed while she watched the news on the twenty-four-inch TV.

Kaylee stared out the window at the brick wall of the building next door. She shivered as she realized the frost on the window was on the inside as well as the outside. The old radiator rattled to life when she turned the heat up.

She took a deep breath to settle her nerves before dialing Blayne’s number.

“Hello,” he answered on the first ring.

“Hi.” Kaylee tried to infuse a fake “everything’s fine” tone into her voice. It didn’t work.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just feeling a little out of my element.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? How’s the hotel?” Blayne asked, his voice rising a notch in suspicion.

The concern in his voice almost broke her. She pulled the phone away from her face and took a few breaths, holding back tears. When she put the phone back to her ear, Blayne said, “Are you still there? Is everything okay?”

“I’m here.” Dammit! Her voice broke. She cleared her throat—maybe he’d think it was just because she had mucus in her throat. “The, uh, hotel is okay. A little run down, but that’s all I could afford.”

“Kaylee, are you sure you’re alright?”

She didn’t want him to worry or to be able to tell her “I told you so,” so she dug deep and pulled off a good semblance of confidence in her voice. “I’m fine. I’ll only be here for two nights. It’s just been a long day.”

“Okay. If you say so.”

“I say so,” she said. “I think I’m just going to go to bed now. I’ll text you in the morning when I head over to the school.”

“Alright. Don’t forget,” he said. “And, Kaylee?”

“Yeah?”

“Be careful. I…” He cleared his throat. “I really care about you.”

Her throat closed up with emotion so she could only utter a whispered, “I care about you, too.”

She lay down fully clothed on top of the sheets, hoping to stave off any bed bugs that might want to feast on her.

Kaylee slept fitfully and woke early. Her goal with showering was to get done as quickly as possible without touching the tile or shower curtain with any part of her body. The quick part proved to be easy, since there was no hot water.

Deciding to skip breakfast, she ordered a ride-share car to come pick her up and take her to the school where Mama C had taught. The car delivered her to an old brick building lined up on the street with businesses and hotels/residences made from the same brick. The front wall and front door were right up against the sidewalk. So different from the high schools Kaylee was used to back in Colorado.

She steeled herself and stepped through the front door to be met by a resource officer. “Young lady,” he said, looking down at her, “you’re late for class.”

“Oh, umm,” she stammered. “I’m not a student.”

“No?” he questioned. “Then what’s your business here?”

She probably should have thought this through better, maybe called ahead. “I am a college student, from Colorado, and I just need to talk to one of the secretaries and a couple of the teachers about my thesis project.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Can I see your I.D.?”

She fumbled for her phone and slipped her Driver’s License out of the phone case and handed it to him.

“And,” he took the license from her, staring down at it. “What kind of ‘thesis’ brings you to this generic high school in New York, Miss Burke?”

A thought struck her. “How long have you been at this school,”—she glanced at his name tag—“Officer Weyland?”

He