Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) Read Online Free PDF Page A

had anticipated.
    She pulled my face down to hers and studied my eyes. “Interesting,” was her only comment. Releasing my face, she made a beeline for her desk.
    “What’s interesting?” I asked. Emery hadn’t even hinted at what to look for. “The color? Did you notice the green is, like, jade now?”
    “Jade is an adequate description,” she said by way of reply as she wrote in her Mutant Girl journal. No problems with interpretation, though. She had noticed the color change.
    But what did it mean?
    “Serena, is this something I should worry about?”
    “No,” Emery answered for her. “Come on, Cassidy. Let’s get on with this. Your mom will be taking you and your friends to have your nails done soon.” He grinned. “Believe it or not, that is the first time I have said that in my entire life.”
    “Having your nails done?” I said absently, distracted by Serena. “What do you think she’s writing?” I asked Emery as I slipped off my coat and sat on the exam table.
    “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said lightly. He tied the tourniquet on my arm.
    I frowned, because that so wasn’t the case. Emery had a very good guess about what his mom had written. He just didn’t want to tell me.
    “After I transcribe her notes tonight, I’ll text you relevant details,” he whispered.
    My scowl deepened, because he would do no such thing. I was on a need-to-know-basis about the microbes that had invaded my body, and as far as Emery and Serena were concerned, I needed to know very little.
    Emery removed the tourniquet. I concentrated on keeping my skin from reacting and hardening as he slid the hypodermic needle into a bulging vein. I hated needles.
    Hunched over, I watched the tube fill with blood and fumed about being treated like a child. Don’t I have a right to know everything? It is my body—
    My senses abruptly sharpened. I heard footsteps on the front porch and straightened with alarm.
    “Someone’s here,” I said. “On your porch, I mean.”
    “Mom, will you answer—”
    “The door is opening!”
    Emery and Serena’s heads snapped to one another like the ends of a rubber band.
    “Dad,” Emery said at the same time Serena said, “Your father.”
    My blood ran cold. Mr. Phillips cannot be here!
    Emery pulled the needle from my arm, and he and Serena kicked into high gear, hiding evidence wherever they could cover or stash it. Problem was, where were they going to stash me?
    “Cassidy, get up,” Emery ordered in a whisper. Terrified, I hopped down from the most incriminating piece of evidence in the room: a medical exam table.
    It’s not totally inconceivable that a geneticist would have an exam table in her lab , I assured myself as I listened to Mr. Phillips walk past the stairs to the kitchen. “He’s in the kitchen,” I warned, apparently too loudly, because Emery and Serena shushed me.
    “Dishes,” Emery commanded, motioning to Serena’s lab table.
    I hustled to the table and swiftly stacked the dirty dishes. Good cover. I am being paid to keep things tidy , I thought. The basement door opened, and I almost dropped the stack of dishes I was in the midst of picking up.
    “Serena, Emery,” Mr. Phillips called.
    My stomach plunged. Man, he scared the bejeezus out of me.
    Serena stared at me. “Gavin?” Her next reaction was completely unexpected. Her face lit with unadulterated joy, and she sang—yes, sang, “You’re home!”
    Mr. Phillips came bounding down the stairs, and Serena ran to meet him. He swept her off her feet and turned her in a full circle, kissing her. It was the hottest, most romantic thing I had ever witnessed.
    “Dad,” Emery said, beaming.
    My throat tightened as I watched Emery join them. I had never seen him or Serena so happy before, and this made me happy. The six-foot-four-inch mountain of a man placed his tiny wife on her feet and gathered his son into his hulking arms.
    “How are ya, Tiger?” Mr. Phillips said to Emery, squeezing him in a