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

probably contained more mold than food. They had been in there for a while. “They have the worst diets. You’d think a couple of geneticists would take the food pyramid more seriously. Emery won’t eat anything fresh. I have to force him to eat an apple.”
    Mr. Phillips laughed. “You managed to get him to eat an apple? I’m impressed and humbled. Never could get that kid to do anything he didn’t want to do.”
    “He is stubborn,” I agreed, causing Mr. Phillips to laugh again. “If you’re hungry, there are TV dinners in the freezer.”
    “Don’t I know,” he replied with distaste. He shut the refrigerator door. “Looks like I’m off to the grocery store. I’ll pick up a few apples now that I know Emery has met his match.”
    He winked at me and turned to go, and I had to wonder why I had never noticed how cool he was before.
    I sighed. I’m ridiculous . Why did I get wigged out about him last time? He’s a nice guy. Shaking my head at my overactive imagination, I put some real force into scrubbing the pan.

 
    Four
    Like Father, Like Son
     
     
     
     
    Mom treated Miriam Cohen, Bren Dawson, Carli Cooper, and me to manicures, while Dad and Ben took Nate, Jared, Emery, Bobby, and Chazz to play laser tag. The plan was to meet at our house for pizza and cake afterward.
    If my mom had suggested doing manicures on my last birthday, I doubt I would have been very enthused. I’d just gotten into the girlie stuff lately, but the manicure was a blast, and I couldn’t stop grinning as the nail technician pressed glittery star decals onto my perfectly filed, aqua-blue fingertips. My nails had never looked so smashing.
    My friends chose color combinations that suited their personalities. Miriam went with hot pink polish and red lip decals. Carli chose bright yellow polish and rainbow smiley faces. And Bren couldn’t resist the snarling bulldogs, which looked awesome against gunmetal gray.
    The guys arrived home before us. As we came through the front door, talking a million miles a minute, I instinctively took a scent inventory: pizza, Dad, Ben, the boys, Serena, and Mr. Phillips were all here. Laughing and chatting, we entered the kitchen, running into Emery first. The others were helping themselves to pizza and salad at the island in our very white kitchen that my mom was a slave to. She spent countless hours keeping it perfectly clean.
    “Emery, check it out.” I showed off my nails, wiggling my fingers so the decals caught the light.
    He studied them and remarked, “They’re very . . . reflective.”
    “Reflective?” I laughed. Emery sure knew how to give a compliment.
    “You should’ve heard the lady complain about them,” Bren said. She pushed her straightened, espresso-colored hair back from her dark face and cleared her throat. “Li’l gul,” she said, imitating the woman who had done my nails, “you dwink too mush meelk. Deez nalls ah like dwagonz—”
    “You’re so mean!” Carli cut her off, giving tiny Bren a good-natured bop on the head. Bren yanked Carli’s long blond hair in return. Everything about Carli was long—hair, arms, legs, fingers, feet. Only now were the boys in our class finally catching up to her in height.
    “Well, that’s what she said!” Bren insisted. “Cass has ‘dwagonz’ nails.”
    Emery looked at me, chuckling. Though his expression was carefree, his eyes were assessing. I smiled to let him know all was well. So my nails had become rather thick? Minor compared to my other mutant anomalies. I was just relieved no one had noticed my eyes today, not even my mom, who was the only person who had noticed when my freckles had vanished. She had chalked up the disappearing act to getting older.
    Miriam, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, bulldozed in, shoving her hands in Emery’s face. “I thought of you when I chose these,” she said flirtatiously, fluttering her fingers and eyelashes.
    “Thank you,” he said with his easy grin. The grin masked