Read Online Far from Xanadu by Julie Anne Peters - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julie Anne Peters
Tags: JUV014000
Ads: Link
looking?” Xanadu sneaked a peek over her purse.
“No, he’s inhaling his burger.” I looped a leg over the bench and stood up. “I better get you home before dark.” Thank you, Faye. Thank you, God, for rotation of the earth and making the sunset arrive at this time.
Xanadu exhaled an irritated breath. She pushed out the end of her bench and paused for a moment, studying Bailey. Looking breath-taking backlit by the rosy sun. Then she turned and accompanied me to the truck.
The truck.
Xanadu must’ve realized it the same moment I did. There was no truck. We both skidded to a stop in the gravel. She removed her shades and dropped them into her purse, then said, “I think I know where I can get a ride. Is there a restroom in this place? I have to put on makeup.”
My heart sank. “Knock on the back door. Jamie’ll let you use the one inside.”
She reversed direction and walked toward the Dairy D. Halfway there, she turned and called to me, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Chapter Seven
I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Xanadu. Dad’s lighter was under my pillow. I felt around for it in the dark. I flipped the cap and filled my nose with the oily smell of butane. “If you dream it, you can be it.” Dad. He was talking about softball, about being picked for All-State, playing competitive, playing college ball. About making a career of it, going pro. When was that?
Didn’t matter. My dream wasn’t about softball. I wanted her. She wasn’t a dream. She was here, now. Dreaming doesn’t get you anything, Dad. You have to do more than want it so bad it hurts. You have to take action.
I shut the lighter and focused on my clock across the room. 3:46. Sunday morning. If I added more definition to my arms, or my quads, where she could see.... There wasn’t much I could do about my height. I could wear my cowboy boots. They’d add an inch or two.
The VFW didn’t open until noon, but Armie said I could use the resistance equipment any time I wanted. He may not have meant four AM.So he shouldn’t have given me a key.
It was quiet in Coalton. So quiet you could feel the silence like a blanket wrapped around you.
I warmed up with side, tricep, and quad stretches, then ran through a couple of sets of curls, pulldowns, leg presses. I benched a hundred. My muscles were spazzing bad, but I power-crunched till it hurt.
My mood lifted, my outlook. I felt more in control. Nothing had happened between her and Bailey. What could happen on a ride home?
I locked the VFW door and started back. People who weren’t in church, or had gone to an early service, were already sitting out on their front porches, drinking coffee and reading the
Tri-County Gazette
. “Morning, Mike.” From the ratty old sofa in front of his trailer, Mayor Ledbetter waved to me. “It’s a warm ’un already, isn’t it? Hot for April.”
“Sure is,” I called back.
“Cougars are looking mean.”
I flexed a bicep at him.
He flexed one back. “Marie and I don’t miss a game.” Marie was the Missus Mayor, as per Jamie.
The Coalton neighborhood was alternating blocks of houses and trailers, as if in the old days people who arrived here couldn’t decide whether to stay or move on. Szabos stayed. Our family had been here for three generations now, four counting me and Darryl. Great-Grandpa Darryl was a gunslinger with Wild Bill Hickok, according to Dad. He’d told us all these stories when we were kids about how famous, or infamous, our relatives had been. It was b.s. We were plumbers.
I turned the corner on eighth and the Cadillac parked in our drive-way made me grind to a halt. Crap. Pastor Glenn from United Methodist. Why did he keep coming here? He had to park with his butt end in the street because Darryl’s auto carcasses were clogging the driveway. Darryl claimed that once he got them fixed up and running, he’d either sell them or race the cars himself on the circuit. Sure, Darryl. Big dreams. Darryl
“No, he’s inhaling his burger.” I looped a leg over the bench and stood up. “I better get you home before dark.” Thank you, Faye. Thank you, God, for rotation of the earth and making the sunset arrive at this time.
Xanadu exhaled an irritated breath. She pushed out the end of her bench and paused for a moment, studying Bailey. Looking breath-taking backlit by the rosy sun. Then she turned and accompanied me to the truck.
The truck.
Xanadu must’ve realized it the same moment I did. There was no truck. We both skidded to a stop in the gravel. She removed her shades and dropped them into her purse, then said, “I think I know where I can get a ride. Is there a restroom in this place? I have to put on makeup.”
My heart sank. “Knock on the back door. Jamie’ll let you use the one inside.”
She reversed direction and walked toward the Dairy D. Halfway there, she turned and called to me, “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Chapter Seven
I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t stop thinking about Xanadu. Dad’s lighter was under my pillow. I felt around for it in the dark. I flipped the cap and filled my nose with the oily smell of butane. “If you dream it, you can be it.” Dad. He was talking about softball, about being picked for All-State, playing competitive, playing college ball. About making a career of it, going pro. When was that?
Didn’t matter. My dream wasn’t about softball. I wanted her. She wasn’t a dream. She was here, now. Dreaming doesn’t get you anything, Dad. You have to do more than want it so bad it hurts. You have to take action.
I shut the lighter and focused on my clock across the room. 3:46. Sunday morning. If I added more definition to my arms, or my quads, where she could see.... There wasn’t much I could do about my height. I could wear my cowboy boots. They’d add an inch or two.
The VFW didn’t open until noon, but Armie said I could use the resistance equipment any time I wanted. He may not have meant four AM.So he shouldn’t have given me a key.
It was quiet in Coalton. So quiet you could feel the silence like a blanket wrapped around you.
I warmed up with side, tricep, and quad stretches, then ran through a couple of sets of curls, pulldowns, leg presses. I benched a hundred. My muscles were spazzing bad, but I power-crunched till it hurt.
My mood lifted, my outlook. I felt more in control. Nothing had happened between her and Bailey. What could happen on a ride home?
I locked the VFW door and started back. People who weren’t in church, or had gone to an early service, were already sitting out on their front porches, drinking coffee and reading the
Tri-County Gazette
. “Morning, Mike.” From the ratty old sofa in front of his trailer, Mayor Ledbetter waved to me. “It’s a warm ’un already, isn’t it? Hot for April.”
“Sure is,” I called back.
“Cougars are looking mean.”
I flexed a bicep at him.
He flexed one back. “Marie and I don’t miss a game.” Marie was the Missus Mayor, as per Jamie.
The Coalton neighborhood was alternating blocks of houses and trailers, as if in the old days people who arrived here couldn’t decide whether to stay or move on. Szabos stayed. Our family had been here for three generations now, four counting me and Darryl. Great-Grandpa Darryl was a gunslinger with Wild Bill Hickok, according to Dad. He’d told us all these stories when we were kids about how famous, or infamous, our relatives had been. It was b.s. We were plumbers.
I turned the corner on eighth and the Cadillac parked in our drive-way made me grind to a halt. Crap. Pastor Glenn from United Methodist. Why did he keep coming here? He had to park with his butt end in the street because Darryl’s auto carcasses were clogging the driveway. Darryl claimed that once he got them fixed up and running, he’d either sell them or race the cars himself on the circuit. Sure, Darryl. Big dreams. Darryl
Similar Books
