Read Online Lovely Vicious by Sara Wolf - Free Book Online Page B

again. That way there’s no chance of anything beyond a one-night stand forming. It’s the most practical, logically sound plan I’ve ever come up with, if I may say so myself.
    “Honey.” Mom comes in. “Your father wants to know what schools you’re applying to.”
    I smack my hand against my head but there’s a can opener in it. As I rub away the bruises, I sigh.
    “I’ve told him a million times, Ohio State, Oregon U, Idaho U, and that one Mormon college in Seattle with the creepy brochures.”
    “Why are you applying if it looks creepy?”
    “Because creepy is awesome? They’re like a cult. I’m all about that shit.”
    Mom shoots me the Disapproving-Mom-Subtle-Lip-Frown.
    “I’m all about that poop,” I correct delicately. She laughs, and it’s a good sign. Two good signs in one month. I quash my optimism for stark realism – it won’t last. I hope it does, but it won’t. That won’t stop me from enjoying it while I can, though. I assemble the tuna melts and slip the sandwiches in the oven to, well, melt. The doorbell rings, and I answer. Avery stands there, flaming hair lit from behind by the half-setting sun and a little scowl on her face.
    “Awesome, thanks so much for coming!”
    “I’m not staying,” Avery drawls. “Just give me the money so I can leave.”
    “Uh, right! How much do I owe you?”
    “Twenty bucks.”
    “Okay, one sec, lemme go get my wallet.”
    I take the stairs two at a time to my bedroom and rummage frantically in my wallet. I pull out two tens and hurtle downstairs. Avery passes me a brown paper bag, squished small, and I give her the money.
    “Thanks for this.” I smile. “Means, uh, a lot.”
    “Stay in school,” she mocks what I told her that night at the party.
    “Haha,” I laugh awkwardly. “They aren’t for me. They’re for my high-anxiety…aunt’s…boyfriend’s…daughter…who is my cousin.”
    “Sure,” Avery snorts. “Whatever.”
    There’s a moment of quiet in which I think she’ll turn and walk away, our business done, but she stays.
    “Can I give you a piece of advice?” She narrows her eyes at me.
    “Sure.”
    “Stay away from Jack’s past.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “Any particular reason? And how did you know –”
    “Wren and I talk. You asked Wren about Jack. And I’m telling you to stay out of Jack’s past. People don’t do well when they meddle in there.”
    “Like, they’re struck by a terrible illness? Did he steal a crystal skull from a tomb? I told him that wasn’t the brightest idea –”
    “He’s dangerous,” She cuts me off. “Okay? He’s fucking dangerous when you try to get close to him, and if you keep it up, he’s going to turn that danger on you and I won’t be able to stop him this time.”
    “Oh, is that a friend, Isis?”
    I immediately stash the paper bag down my shirt. It bulges awkwardly and I pray she doesn’t notice I’ve suddenly gone up an entire lumpy cup.
    “Uh, yeah. Mom, this is Avery. Avery, this is Patricia Blake, my mom.”
    Avery takes one look at my bathrobed, watery-eyed, slightly fragile looking mother and sneers.
    “I gotta go.”
    She’s gone in her green Saab before Mom has the chance to rope her into the living room. Smart girl. Also all kind of hells rude, but also smart.
    “That girl – she looked familiar,” Mom starts.
    “Yeah? You’ve seen her before?”
    “I have. I just can’t for the life of me remember where.”
     
    ***
     
    I manage to slip the paper bag past security at school by almost rear-ending the janitor’s car as he pulls in to the parking lot Monday morning. He gets out, face a beet-red pimple ready to pop, and as he’s lecturing me on safe driving and checking my fender to make sure not a speck of his red paint is on it, I slip the bag into the bed of the truck, under the tarp. At morning recess, I go behind the maintenance shed by the art room, where the janitor parks and dumps the bed of his truck out. A pile of rakes, brooms, bleach,