thing.
The jerk was kicked back on the bed with his earbuds in and the tunes cranked. I could hear the music from across the room. His sandy hair looked like it could use a deep conditioning, and his room smelled like three-day-old pizza and sweaty socks.
I fought the urge to gag and pinch my nose.
Teenage boys were so gross.
I kicked the frame his bed with the heel of my shoe and crossed my arms, waiting for him to get a clue.
His eyes popped open, big chocolate saucers. “What the hell, Piper!” he yelled. “Get out of here.”
I snorted. “I’d like to see you make me.” Okay, that was a totally childish response, but sometimes I needed to get down to his level for him to hear me.
He ripped the headphones from his ears, bolting upright on the bed. “What gives?” His voice returned to a normal volume. “Did you come to annoy me?”
“Pack your crap,” I said, glancing around the pigsty he lived in. “You’re going home.”
“We’re leaving? But I thought—”
“You thought wrong. Dad is meeting you on the main island in two days to take you home.” And better flipping be there.
“Just me?”
“Yep. For now,” I added. It was probably cruel giving him false hope, because something told me that when I said good-bye to TJ it would be for good. Our worlds were no longer parallel.
“No freaking way. No. Not happening. If you’re staying, then so am I.” His belligerence was anticipated. “Summer is not even over,” he argued.
“Under the circumstances, there’s no reason for you to stay.”
“Good thing you’re not the boss of me.”
“But Dad is,” I countered.
He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that used to be adorable when he was four. “It’s not fair. You get to stay so you can make out and play tonsil hockey with your boyfriend, and I get sent back to live with Dad.”
Again pangs of guilt hit me. If the roles were reversed, I would be pitching a fit. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I argued.
He gave me a look that clearly called me a liar. “What I want doesn’t matter, does it?”
I crossed my arms. “Of course it does. Believe it or not, I’m doing this for you.”
“That is such a parental cop-out. When did you become so lame?”
Ouch . He was lashing out and I couldn’t blame him. I would take it as long as it got him off this forsaken island. “Look, TJ, I’m sorry,” I murmured, genuine regret in my voice. “But I’ve got to stay and take care of a few things. Don’t you want to see your friends?” I asked, hoping to give him something to look forward to.
His puppy eyes brightened a bit. “But you’re coming home?” he asked, scooting to the end of his bed so his legs swung over.
I chewed on my lip, trying to find a clean spot to stand. This was the hard part. I had no idea when I would go home again…if ever. Loose wisps of hair tickled the back of my neck as I nodded.
Liar. Liar. Liar.
My subconscious could be such a downer.
“Whatever,” he said sarcastically. “It’s not like I ever get a say in anything about my life.” He stuck his earbuds back in, flopped down on the bed, and went back to ignoring me.
“Glad we had this talk,” I mumbled, venturing over the scattered filthy clothes, a skateboard, and empty bottles of Gatorade to make my way to the door. At least he was staying hydrated while he holed away in his room.
Two days , I told myself. He would be safe and off this island of death.
What could happen in two days?
Chapter 7
Because I had nothing better to do on a Saturday night, I flounced around my room, gathering all the discarded dirty clothes. I needed to do some monotonous work, like laundry. With my earbuds in, pumping classic eighties rock, I padded down the hall in my socks and dumped a load into the washer. Since I was already on a roll, why stop at laundry?
Why not make a night of it?
Woo-hoo. Domestic party at the manor. Come one; come all. And don’t forget to bring the disinfectant
The jerk was kicked back on the bed with his earbuds in and the tunes cranked. I could hear the music from across the room. His sandy hair looked like it could use a deep conditioning, and his room smelled like three-day-old pizza and sweaty socks.
I fought the urge to gag and pinch my nose.
Teenage boys were so gross.
I kicked the frame his bed with the heel of my shoe and crossed my arms, waiting for him to get a clue.
His eyes popped open, big chocolate saucers. “What the hell, Piper!” he yelled. “Get out of here.”
I snorted. “I’d like to see you make me.” Okay, that was a totally childish response, but sometimes I needed to get down to his level for him to hear me.
He ripped the headphones from his ears, bolting upright on the bed. “What gives?” His voice returned to a normal volume. “Did you come to annoy me?”
“Pack your crap,” I said, glancing around the pigsty he lived in. “You’re going home.”
“We’re leaving? But I thought—”
“You thought wrong. Dad is meeting you on the main island in two days to take you home.” And better flipping be there.
“Just me?”
“Yep. For now,” I added. It was probably cruel giving him false hope, because something told me that when I said good-bye to TJ it would be for good. Our worlds were no longer parallel.
“No freaking way. No. Not happening. If you’re staying, then so am I.” His belligerence was anticipated. “Summer is not even over,” he argued.
“Under the circumstances, there’s no reason for you to stay.”
“Good thing you’re not the boss of me.”
“But Dad is,” I countered.
He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout that used to be adorable when he was four. “It’s not fair. You get to stay so you can make out and play tonsil hockey with your boyfriend, and I get sent back to live with Dad.”
Again pangs of guilt hit me. If the roles were reversed, I would be pitching a fit. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I argued.
He gave me a look that clearly called me a liar. “What I want doesn’t matter, does it?”
I crossed my arms. “Of course it does. Believe it or not, I’m doing this for you.”
“That is such a parental cop-out. When did you become so lame?”
Ouch . He was lashing out and I couldn’t blame him. I would take it as long as it got him off this forsaken island. “Look, TJ, I’m sorry,” I murmured, genuine regret in my voice. “But I’ve got to stay and take care of a few things. Don’t you want to see your friends?” I asked, hoping to give him something to look forward to.
His puppy eyes brightened a bit. “But you’re coming home?” he asked, scooting to the end of his bed so his legs swung over.
I chewed on my lip, trying to find a clean spot to stand. This was the hard part. I had no idea when I would go home again…if ever. Loose wisps of hair tickled the back of my neck as I nodded.
Liar. Liar. Liar.
My subconscious could be such a downer.
“Whatever,” he said sarcastically. “It’s not like I ever get a say in anything about my life.” He stuck his earbuds back in, flopped down on the bed, and went back to ignoring me.
“Glad we had this talk,” I mumbled, venturing over the scattered filthy clothes, a skateboard, and empty bottles of Gatorade to make my way to the door. At least he was staying hydrated while he holed away in his room.
Two days , I told myself. He would be safe and off this island of death.
What could happen in two days?
Chapter 7
Because I had nothing better to do on a Saturday night, I flounced around my room, gathering all the discarded dirty clothes. I needed to do some monotonous work, like laundry. With my earbuds in, pumping classic eighties rock, I padded down the hall in my socks and dumped a load into the washer. Since I was already on a roll, why stop at laundry?
Why not make a night of it?
Woo-hoo. Domestic party at the manor. Come one; come all. And don’t forget to bring the disinfectant
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