Read Online Second Star by Alyssa B. Sheinmel - Free Book Online

wet.
    “Hi,” I say. “Morning.”
    Belle turns, fixing her intense eyes on me. I imagine she looks at a wave the same way, once she decides that’s the one she’s going to ride, and begins her paddle out to conquer it. I drop my gaze.
    “Morning, Wendy,” Pete says cheerfully, either oblivious to or just ignoring his ex-girlfriend’s stare. “Sleep well?”
    “Sure,” I say noncommittally, not wanting to think about my dream. “Actually, I’m pretty hungry,” I add mostly to change to subject.”
    Belle rolls her eyes, finally breaking her gaze. “You’re out of luck there, Newport. There’s nothing in the house.”
    Pete shrugs. “Not to worry,” he says, “We’re going out to snag supplies.”
    “The house on Brentway?” Belle says eagerly as a couple more boys come through the sliding door.
    Pete ignores her and turns back to me. “We’ll be back with food later. Think you can make it till then?”
    “I’m fine,” I say. “I can make it till we go over there.”
    “You’re not coming,” Belle says. “Wouldn’t want to risk messing up your perfect record, would we?”
    Understanding crashes over me like a wave; they’re going to rob a house.
    “I have cash,” I say weakly, thinking of the bills in my duffel bag. “I could buy us some food.”
    Pete shakes his head. “Save your cash. This house is huge. Believe me, these people can afford to lose whatever we take.”
    “Isn’t it dangerous?”
    “Not with the right crew,” Pete says, gesturing at the boy—Hughie—brushing sand off of his legs behind him. He adds, “And Belle can pick locks like a cat burglar.”
    Of course she can , I think. “I’m going,” I say suddenly.
    Pete shakes his head. “You don’t have to come with us, Wendy. Really. We won’t be gone long, and you’ll be better off staying here at the house.”
    I shake my head. “I’m going,” I repeat, louder this time.
    “It’s really not your scene,” Pete protests.
    “I’m here to find a new scene, remember?” I say firmly.
    Pete opens his mouth to try to argue, but I shake my head. I’ve decided that I’m going no matter what he says, so there’s no reason for him to waste his breath.
     
     
    At sunset, I’m riding on the handlebars of Hughie’s bike; Belle and Pete share a bike beside us, and Matt rides a third on his own. They’re smiling; no one seems to find any of this out of the ordinary.
    I’m grateful for the roar of the surf, loud enough to drown out the sound of my heartbeat, pounding so hard and so fast that you’d think I was the one pushing the pedals of the bike, past houses with manicured lawns and bright white fences.
    At the edge of Brentway, we dismount our bikes. Pete leads the way behind the houses. We creep through backyards with pools and diving boards and swing sets, hiding behind trees and bushes. I wonder what my parents would do if they looked out the windows of the glass house and saw a group of kids tiptoeing past.
    When we finally reach the house, Belle’s hands work deftly on its lock, and I pretend not to notice just how proud Pete looks when the back door swings open as though the house itself were inviting us in. Belle makes a beeline for the stairs while Pete and Matt head for the kitchen.
    “Where’s she going?” I ask Pete. “I thought we were just taking food and supplies, that kind of thing.”
    Pete shrugs. “Belle likes to check out the bedrooms.”
    I don’t ask why. Maybe she likes to go through closets and try on clothes. Maybe she likes to slip between clean sheets on beds with plush mattresses and soft pillows. Maybe she likes to take hot showers, since the water in Pete’s house, I discovered earlier, is icy cold.
    Pete and Matt move through the house like cats who can see in the dark; I linger in the doorway with Hughie, who’s fussing with the panel for the alarm. I recognize it immediately; my parents have the same kind. You have sixty seconds to disarm before it automatically