Read Online The Key to the Golden Firebird by Maureen Johnson - Free Book Online

“So, I guess we’ll kind of start at the beginning.”
    â€œI think I need to get out for a second.” May sighed and wiped some of the perspiration from her face. She put the car in park and turned off the engine. They both got out of the car, leaving their doors hanging open to air it out. May sat on the brand-new curb and rubbed her eyes.
    â€œHow did you learn how to drive?” she asked.
    â€œMy dad. And driver’s ed.”
    â€œYou passed the first time, didn’t you?”
    â€œI had more practice.”
    Somehow May didn’t think that was it.
    â€œThings come easier to you,” she said.
    â€œI’m not even going there,” he replied, shaking his head.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou know what.”
    â€œSchool stuff doesn’t count,” she said.
    â€œSince when? I’ve always been way behind you. This is the only thing I’ve done better at first.”
    The flattery lifted May’s spirits a bit, but she didn’t want this to show.
    â€œThe only reason I have to learn is because my mom has allthese jobs she needs me to do,” she said.
    â€œThat doesn’t matter,” Pete replied. “The best part about driving is that you can just sit and think or play music. Whatever you want. You’re totally on your own.”
    May turned to him. He was too tall to sit with his knees tucked up, like hers were. He had to stretch them out.
    â€œI want that,” she said seriously.
    â€œSo, come on. Back in.”
    The car was slightly cooler when they got in, but this didn’t last long.
    â€œI’ve got an idea,” Pete said. “We’re going to play ‘let’s pretend we’re in England.’ This is how it works: You drive on the left side of the road. That way you can see how close you are to the curb.”
    â€œSo I watch out the window?”
    â€œBloody right.”
    Pete was using the same strange voice that he’d been trying out on Saturday.
    â€œWe’re going to do this without the accent, okay, Pete?”
    â€œYou got it,” he said, again with the accent.
    It took about an hour of going back and forth between the left and right sides, but she eventually managed to drive on the correct side at the correct distance from the curb. But an hour in the punishing heat of the car drained them both, and they turned around and headed back to May’s house.
    â€œSo, what do you think?” he asked. “Want to do this again?”
    â€œYeah,” May said. “It was good. I think I almost got it.”
    â€œYou did get it. You were fine.”
    â€œSo what’s the catch?” May asked.
    â€œCatch?”
    â€œI’m just waiting,” she said. “I know you have something planned. I know I’m walking into some plot of yours.”
    Pete snickered. “Just wait and see.”
    â€œYeah,” May said, getting out of the car. “I can hardly wait.”

3
    One of May’s ultimate pet peeves was when people said to her, “Your dad’s in a better place now.” Like he had moved. May always wanted to say, “Yes. He loves it in North Carolina.” Or, “He says Spain is amazing.”
    May resented the idea of anyone else thinking they knew where her dad had gone. She didn’t know where her dad was. Not even physically. His body had been cremated, and the ashes were being stored somewhere. She had never asked where because she didn’t want to know. As for the spiritual part (which was what the “better placers” were talking about), she got the impression they were talking about a heaven where he was floating around in the clouds, consorting with famous dead people.
    The other thing they seemed to be saying was that death was a great thing. That was probably the part that made her so angry. It was like they were telling her she should be happy that her father had dropped dead because he ate too much fat and