Read Online The Chick and the Dead by Casey Daniels - Free Book Online
Authors: Casey Daniels
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say. Rather than doling out false hopes or hollow promises, I thumbed through Harmony's sketchbook. Page after page was filled with drawings, each of them emotionally charged. There was one of the house where she lived, and I could practically see the hopelessness of the neighborhood with every stroke of her pencil. There was another of a dog with a long snout and shaggy fur that made me want to scratch it behind the ears. There was even one of Harmony herself, and written underneath it in curling teenaged script were the words Harmony in the Mirror .
"You're really good." I flipped through a few more pages. At the back of the book was a drawing of Shayla. It wasn't a caricature; it was too precise for that. Still, it conveyed the big girl's personality perfectly, a cross between Baby Huey and the Jolly Green Giant. I smiled.
"Don't let her see that one." Harmony looked over my shoulder, and I realized that Shayla and her gang weren't gone, they'd just backed off. They were hanging around over near one of those Salvation Army drop-off bins, the kind that look like giant mailboxes. "I don't want to hurt her feelings."
"Why not?" I closed the notebook. "Shayla deserves to have her feelings hurt. She's a bully." Harmony's eyes were blue. She looked away. "I don't have many friends," she said.
"And you want to hang with them?" I looked over my shoulder toward where Shayla and the rest of them were standing ten feet from the clothing bin, seeing who could light a match and toss it—still flaming—into the container. Luckily, none of them had very good aim. "They're jackasses." Harmony wrinkled her nose. I guess there was nothing she could say.
I decided to change the subject and opened the sketchbook again. "You planning on studying art in college?" I asked.
Harmony laughed. Not like it was funny. More like I was the jackass this time. "Doug and Mindy can't afford to send me to college. They can't even afford to keep me with them after I'm eighteen and the state stops paying for my care. I'll get a job…" She shrugged. "I dunno. Somewhere." It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that she needed a better plan than that. After all, aside from the fact that at Harmony's age, my plans had been more in the ballpark of rich husband than job , we were both on the same road.
And I knew for a fact that it led to ruin.
Or at least to a dead-end job in the deadest of all places in town.
I hated to sound like Ella—honest—but I felt the first words of a lecture twitch against my lips. Shayla's voice stopped me.
"Hey, Harmony! Come over here, will you?"
"You're not going, are you?" I looked at the girl in wonder when she started across the parking lot.
"I told you," Harmony said, "I don't have many friends." She snatched the sketchbook out of my hands and went to join the troop of her former tormentors, and that's when it hit me: the time I'd done pretty much the same thing.
Sophomore year in high school.
Tiffany Blaine and her buddies. The coolest, best-dressed, most socially influential girls at Beachwood High School, and I was dying to find my way into the inner circle.
Even when it meant sharing (a polite word for cheating) on the geometry exam.
"What do you think?"
The sound of Didi's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I found her standing right beside me.
"About Harmony?" I shook my head. It was one thing caving in to the demands of the wrong crowd when you had Daddy's influence and Daddy's money to cushion the fall. It was another when you had no one but yourself. "She's headed for trouble."
"You think?" Didi stepped back and watched what was going on across the parking lot. Shayla and Harmony were talking, and I was poised and ready to jump in should the big girl decide to get physical again. Much to my surprise, the two girls came back across the parking lot together. Shayla's head was bent; she was saying something in Harmony's ear. They stopped at the door of the grocery store, and Shayla waited.
"You're really good." I flipped through a few more pages. At the back of the book was a drawing of Shayla. It wasn't a caricature; it was too precise for that. Still, it conveyed the big girl's personality perfectly, a cross between Baby Huey and the Jolly Green Giant. I smiled.
"Don't let her see that one." Harmony looked over my shoulder, and I realized that Shayla and her gang weren't gone, they'd just backed off. They were hanging around over near one of those Salvation Army drop-off bins, the kind that look like giant mailboxes. "I don't want to hurt her feelings."
"Why not?" I closed the notebook. "Shayla deserves to have her feelings hurt. She's a bully." Harmony's eyes were blue. She looked away. "I don't have many friends," she said.
"And you want to hang with them?" I looked over my shoulder toward where Shayla and the rest of them were standing ten feet from the clothing bin, seeing who could light a match and toss it—still flaming—into the container. Luckily, none of them had very good aim. "They're jackasses." Harmony wrinkled her nose. I guess there was nothing she could say.
I decided to change the subject and opened the sketchbook again. "You planning on studying art in college?" I asked.
Harmony laughed. Not like it was funny. More like I was the jackass this time. "Doug and Mindy can't afford to send me to college. They can't even afford to keep me with them after I'm eighteen and the state stops paying for my care. I'll get a job…" She shrugged. "I dunno. Somewhere." It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that she needed a better plan than that. After all, aside from the fact that at Harmony's age, my plans had been more in the ballpark of rich husband than job , we were both on the same road.
And I knew for a fact that it led to ruin.
Or at least to a dead-end job in the deadest of all places in town.
I hated to sound like Ella—honest—but I felt the first words of a lecture twitch against my lips. Shayla's voice stopped me.
"Hey, Harmony! Come over here, will you?"
"You're not going, are you?" I looked at the girl in wonder when she started across the parking lot.
"I told you," Harmony said, "I don't have many friends." She snatched the sketchbook out of my hands and went to join the troop of her former tormentors, and that's when it hit me: the time I'd done pretty much the same thing.
Sophomore year in high school.
Tiffany Blaine and her buddies. The coolest, best-dressed, most socially influential girls at Beachwood High School, and I was dying to find my way into the inner circle.
Even when it meant sharing (a polite word for cheating) on the geometry exam.
"What do you think?"
The sound of Didi's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I found her standing right beside me.
"About Harmony?" I shook my head. It was one thing caving in to the demands of the wrong crowd when you had Daddy's influence and Daddy's money to cushion the fall. It was another when you had no one but yourself. "She's headed for trouble."
"You think?" Didi stepped back and watched what was going on across the parking lot. Shayla and Harmony were talking, and I was poised and ready to jump in should the big girl decide to get physical again. Much to my surprise, the two girls came back across the parking lot together. Shayla's head was bent; she was saying something in Harmony's ear. They stopped at the door of the grocery store, and Shayla waited.
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