A Season for Fireflies Read Online Free PDF

Much Ado About Nothing . I know Wes, Panda, May, and Karen won’t see me at the bottom of the hill but I haven’t talked to my friends since the night I ran out of the theater, and I don’t want to take any chances of running into them.
    Not since I quit the play.
    I grip the steering wheel harder. Taft made me meet with her; the school counselor, Ms. Winters; and Headmaster Lewis. It didn’t change my mind. I felt better actually when I heard people in the halls raving about May’s performance as Beatrice.
    I said nothing about the other night when Mom was drunk. I haven’t had to; the news has done a stellar job of running “Alice Berne Updates” and even did an “on-site” broadcast last night from in front of the rehab facility. It’s not like Mom is a national celebrity, but here in Rhode Island, the smallest state ever—Mom is a socialite. She always has great clothes, impressive celebrity clients, and knows how to put on an incredible event.
    I keep on down Diamond Hill Road, taking the turns slowly.The rush of water hurls down the slope of the steep street. The road is a curvy S shape and when I get down to the bottom, next to the edge of the woods, a gray Toyota Corolla is parked, idling with steam coming from the hood. Kylie Castelli kicks at the car and screams but I can’t hear her over the rain. I pull up and stop behind her car.
    I get out, noting a bumper sticker that reads, Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History. Kylie always knows the trends before they happen; she’s constantly papering the hallway with band names I’ve never heard of and stickers of shows she’s been to over the weekend. She has like two hundred movie and concert tickets taped inside her locker.
    Kylie is on her knees and it looks like she has on brown knee guards from all the mud. Her tire is shredded—completely gone. She got out the jack, which I’m somewhat surprised by, and she’s trying to lift the car up to change the tire.
    â€œWhat happened?” I ask, and then decide that question is stupid.
    She doesn’t answer and with a shriek she pushes as hard as she can on the jack. She pushes too hard, throwing her off balance and onto her butt. Mud splashes onto her backside and legs.
    â€œWell, balls,” she says. I laugh and am surprised how strange it feels in my mouth. I haven’t laughed, not for real anyway, since rehearsal. Her eyes lift up to mine and we’re both smiling. Her usually perfectly tousled, messy-cool hair is matted on her forehead.
    â€œPenny, right?” she says, and gets up.
    We’ve been in Honors English together for two years, but I’mstill surprised she knows my name. We’ve never spoken outside of class.
    â€œWhere’s your spare?” I ask.
    â€œThe spare?”
    â€œThe spare tire,” I clarify.
    She shrugs. “Maybe the trunk?”
    We stand at the back of the Toyota. I lift the trunk open and in between the gym clothes, EG Private track uniforms, and empty water bottles, there is no spare tire. I shut the trunk before everything in there gets soaked.
    â€œYou’ll need to call a tow truck. Do you have the num—” I say, but I’m interrupted by an enormous crash of thunder.
    â€œMy cell died,” she yells.
    I motion to my car. When we get in, I hand my cell over. She says thanks as she takes it and I wish I could cover the dumb stickers on my glove box: Globe Theatre , Shakespeare Rocks! , Keep Calm and Go to the Theatre . Kylie drips water all over the seat.
    â€œMom? I got a flat,” she says into the phone.
    I can hear high-pitched squawking through the line.
    â€œYeah, give me a minute,” Kylie says to the person on the phone, and motions to me for a pen. I reach across her to dig in the glove box, throwing playbills, old scripts, disposable toothbrushes to the floor and on top of her mud-covered pink-manicured toes. I hand the pen over, feeling