Read Online Sweet 16 to Life by Kimberly Reid - Free Book Online Page B

dispatch?”
    â€œYeah?” Lana says, slowing down on her fish dinner. Yep, I figured this would be the right lie to tell.
    â€œWell, it seemed a lot longer than that to me, more like seven or eight minutes. And you know more than one person usually calls in a house fire. If someone called in before me, that means the response time was even longer.”
    â€œIt had better not be eight minutes, unless the city wants a lawsuit. I’ll check the call records, too.”
    There won’t be any lawsuits because the report will show the firefighters arrived when they were supposed to, but that little lie was extra insurance Lana would pull the information for me.
    â€œYou never can be too careful,” I say, mostly as a reminder to myself of how to approach my next question for Lana. “So, don’t you have something you want to discuss with me?”
    â€œWhat?” Lana says all innocent, like she actually has no idea.
    â€œYou promised. You said you’d tell me everything you know about my father—the reason we don’t want him in our lives, why you changed our phone number.”
    â€œNot now, Chanti. I’ve got some work to do,” she says, getting up from the table and hurriedly putting the rest of her food in the refrigerator. That means she’s really trying to avoid me because she always finishes the fish dinner combo. “I’ll be in my office the rest of the night.”
    â€œMom, what are you hiding from me?”
    â€œDon’t you have homework to do?” she asks, her back turned to me as she pauses before leaving the kitchen.
    â€œThat doesn’t answer my question.”
    â€œBetter watch yourself,” Lana says without giving me the evil eye that usually goes with that threat. Now she can’t even look at me when I ask about him.

Chapter 10
    C offee. I don’t want to see, hear, or think about anything else right now. I didn’t fall asleep until three in the morning when my body finally overtook my brain. I couldn’t stop worrying about MJ and Lux, my mother’s refusal to tell me what’s going on, and last but surprisingly least—Marco. Maybe I’m actually getting over him if I’m willing to put him last on my list of things to worry about. And as if I’m somehow putting that vibe out into the universe, a text from Reginald woke me up this morning. He seems like a nice guy, and definitely nice to look at, but for now, I ignore his offer to hang out this weekend. I have enough to deal with. Hey, Universe—if you’re listening, I said I’m getting over Marco, as in, still working on it.
    The coffeemaker is just gasping out its last puff of steam when I get to the kitchen, but there’s no Lana. She wasn’t in the bathroom, either. I checked her bedroom and found the bed made. We don’t have one of those fancy coffeemakers that you can program, just an ancient Mr. Coffee that was a housewarming gift when Lana moved into her first apartment years ago. She must have dashed when she heard me up. I find a note propped against the coffeemaker. It’s so freshly written that I smudge the ink when I pick it up.
    Have an early meeting this morning, and don’t expect to be back until after you’re asleep tonight. Don’t wait up. Left $20 on the kitchen table—order a pizza and keep what’s left.
    Translation: I’m avoiding you, Chanti. And also bribing you with pizza and change. That’s okay. I’ll give her a break until the weekend when she’ll have nowhere to run. I’m avoiding Reginald’s text, so I’m guilty too.
    The coffee raised me enough from the dead that I was able to shower, dress, and get out the door in time to catch my bus, but not enough to keep me from being uncoordinated. I stumbled over the threshold as I walked out onto the porch, spilling the contents of my unzipped backpack. As I’m down on hands and knees trying to