Read Online 37 Things I Love (In No Particular Order) by Kekla Magoon - Free Book Online

forget.
    “THIS IS THE WORST hangover ever,” Abby groans. We wait for the bus at the end of my street. In the space of that three-minute walk, she seems to have revised her current opinion of me.
    I can’t say the same.
    “Just shut up, okay?”
    “Okay. But my head hurts. And my stomach.” She hugs one of my arms in both of hers and leans her head on my shoulder. I let her.
    Five seconds later: “Are you still mad?”
    “Yeah, I’m fucking mad, okay?” We’re dealing in truth this morning.
    “Don’t be mad,” she says. “You know I’ll give the shirt back. But you have to help me figure out what to do about Dennis.”
    “What?”
    “This is, like, the worst thing that could possibly happen.”
    “I can think of worse things.”
    She tugs my arm. “I’m serious. What am I going to do? I mean, what if he tells ?”
    “That you stuff your bra? Big whoop. I think half the sophomore girls do.”
    “It’s embarrassing,” she whines.
    The bus turns the corner, coming our way. “I don’t think he’ll tell. He probably wants to go out with you again.”
    “Really? Did you think he was into me? Like, for more than one party?”
    She may be cutting off circulation to my arm. I shake her loose and swipe our fare cards, and we settle into a double seat.
    “Was he looking at me different? What did you see, I mean, how was he acting toward me? Tell me everything!”
    “I didn’t really notice.”
    “Come on, Ellis…”
    The city glides by out the window and all I want to do is watch it pass in silence.
    “I’m, sorry. Abby, I don’t think I can deal with this right now.” If you can’t be honest with your best friend, who can you be honest with?
    Abby studies me with something resembling concern. “Our fight’s not over yet, huh?”
    “I just have a lot of stuff on my mind.”
    “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she says, fingering the hem of my Dad-Mom-me shirt. “I’m sorry. I just—I thought you’d have my back. You know, at the party.”
    “Well, don’t count on me, okay? Maybe I’m not that good of a person. Maybe I don’t always know what to do.”
    Abby reaches past me to signal for our stop.
    “No one’s perfect,” she says.
    *   *   *
    THE BUS STOP is just around the corner from Abby’s house. We hurry down the block and come around onto her street, big as life …
    And shit if her dad isn’t already out and trimming the hedges.

13
    Getting Away with It
    It’s fun. No other reason.
    WE PRESS OUR BACKS against the side of Mrs. Rabbins’s house like super-secret spies. Two houses away, Abby’s dad works the electric trimmer along the bushes. The soft whine of the motor buzzes lightly through the air.
    “What’s the plan, Stan?” Abby whispers.
    “I don’t know, Joe,” I say, feeling the barest hint of a smile, our fight laid aside in this moment of desperation. We must, must, must get into Abby’s house unseen.
    “Time check?”
    I consult my cell phone. “Seven forty-five.”
    “We’re so fine,” Abby says. “They won’t expect us to even be awake for another two hours, let alone to emerge from my room.”
    “Yeah, but we still have to get in there. How long does it take your dad to trim the hedges?”
    Abby groans. “Not long, really, but he could stay outside for hours. Puttering in the tool shed or mowing the lawn or whatever. He won’t go in till he’s hungry. Something about being cooped up in his office all week long.”
    “So we need stealth, yes?”
    “Definitely.”
    “Okay. Thoughts?”
    “We left my window unlocked.”
    “So we know our point of entry.”
    “Affirmative.”
    I can’t help but grin. I feel like we’re little again, playing CIA in the backyard. I guess, in crisis, we revert to the familiar.
    “So, let’s get to the other side of the house and then regroup.”
    “Yeah, okay.” Abby peels out. Staying low, we scurry toward the hedges at the side of Mrs. Rabbins’s lawn. We hop from yard to yard, skirting widely