Read Online Bumped by Megan McCafferty - Free Book Online Page A

way.
    “Yes, Zen ,” I say in a tone that matches hers note for note. “Did he say or do something . . . um, inappropriate yesterday?”
    “What?” Harmony clumsily flips the pancake half on, half off my plate. When she boosts it back onto the plate with the spatula, it breaks in half. “Oops. Sorry.”
    I’m trying not to lose it, but she is not making it easy. “Did Zen say or do something inappropriate yesterday?”
    “Ohhhh . . .” she says, as if checking in to the conversation for the first time. “No.”
    When she doesn’t elaborate, I do. “Because you’re acting kind of . . .” I choose the next word carefully. “ Different today.”
    “I am?” she asks, a note of worry in her voice. “I guess I’m worn out from yesterday. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”
    I imagine that this is true. I barely know her, and yet I can’t let go of the feeling that there’s something off about her behavior this morning. But I don’t think I’ll get much out of her with repeated prodding.
    “Well,” I reply, deciding to keep it light. “You already make your way around this kitchen better than I do.”
    It’s actually pretty funny seeing Harmony bustle around our kitchen. Ash and Ty know I’ll never be bothered to nuke a freezerful of instant meals, so they provide me with a per diem for takeout whenever they’re away. Watching Harmony put together a fine breakfast out of some eggs and left-behinds in our pantry, I get a glimpse of an alternate destiny. I see what I would’ve looked like if I were the one trained in the domestic arts to make a good wife at sixteen. (Or, as Harmony’s starter engagement would have had it, thirteen.)
    She brushes a strand of hair out of her clear blue eyes. They’re pretty, I think, before remembering, Oh, yeah. They’re just like mine .
    “If you didn’t buy a new veil, what did you and Zen do alone together for three hours?”
    Funny how Zen has had zero time for me, and yet had all afternoon for Harmony.
    “We went to Plain & Simple to shop for a new veil, but I didn’t buy one,” she says as she briskly mixes more batter. “They were all too expensive and . . .” Her voice trails off and her hand spins even more vigorously around the inside of the bowl.
    “And what?” I ask.
    “And then we got some dinner at the U.S. Buff-A. Have you been there?”
    I try not to shoot her a condescending look. I remind myself that the U.S. Buff-A has yet to open a franchise in Goodside. I smile and nod instead.
    “Zen warned me that the Maine lobster-roll appetizer wouldn’t go well with the Pennsylvania cheesesteak,” she says, clutching her stomach and sticking out her tongue. “But I didn’t listen. . . .”
    I take the final bite from my first pancake before reaching for my second. Harmony hasn’t eaten a thing.
    “Did you meet anyone else while you were there?”
    Harmony doesn’t stop stirring. “No. Zen blinded his MiNet so we could have some privacy.”
    Of course he did. How gentlemanly of him.
    “So what did you talk about?”
    “You.” She stops mixing and levels her gaze at me. “Zen cares about you.”
    “Zen cares about everyone. It’s, like, his thing.”
    It’s almost pathological, really, his need to help people. This is why he’s the go-to guy for driving home a bunch of wasted Cheerclones after their orgy. Gah.
    “Maybe,” Harmony says. “But he really cares about you. It’s too bad about his insufficient verticality.”
    I choke on my pancake, coughing a puff of flour across the countertop.
    “Then you wouldn’t have to share yourself with someone you’ve never even met.”
    Then she picks up a sponge and cleans up the mess I just made.
    I’m still thwacking my chest with the heel of my palm, trying to dislodge a wad of unchewed dough. I have no time to offer my rebuttal because I’m interrupted by an all-too-familiar annoyance coming from the MiVu.
    “Wake up, Pell-Mel! Wakey-wakey!”
    “Oh!” Harmony jumps,