Cecily Von Ziegesar Read Online Free PDF

something you shouldtry on your own at home. Just another totally wack concept brought to you by the modern world of Planet Starbucks.
    The guy was still staring at her. Or staring through her. She didn’t mind. At least he wasn’t staring at her boobs.
    â€œPatrick,” he said finally. “Pink Patrick.”
    â€œHere.” She offered him the mochaccino. As with everything, now that she had it, she didn’t really want it. “Take this too,” she said, handing him a biscotti. “Sorry, the other one’s for my brother.”
    Pink Patrick tore open the wrapper with his teeth and devoured the biscotti.
    â€œFuck it,” she said, and handed him the second one. Adam wasn’t hungry, not like this guy. The dude in the café was probably right. He wasn’t a student.
    Adam observed the proceedings from across the road. He didn’t like the guy’s ripped parka or how he was talking to his sister without looking at her. He didn’t like his beard or his dirty boots. He didn’t like how she’d given him all her food, especially not after she’d taken so much trouble to procure it. He tooted the horn again.
    The bearded guy shot to his feet and lunged toward the car. “Hey! What’s your problem?” he shouted as he stormed across the road. “Is there a problem?”
    Adam locked the door. His window was wide open, but he didn’t want to roll it up for fear of pissing the guy off even further. He started the engine, revving the gas pedal with what he hoped was a menacing roar. There were crumbs in the guy’s beard and his blue eyes were round and fierce. He looked like Kris Kristofferson on crystal meth.
    â€œDon’t worry about him,” Tragedy called out as she sauntered across the road to the car. “That’s just my brother, Adam.He’s harmless.” She opened the passenger door. “Hey, want a ride?” she asked the bearded guy.
    â€œJesus.” Adam let his head fall back against the headrest, resigning himself. The guy was either going to hurl that huge cup of steaming hot coffee in his face, scarring him for life, or he was going to get into the backseat and ride with them for a mile or so before bashing their heads in with his boots.
    â€œNo thanks.” The guy turned abruptly and walked up the road, away from town.
    Tragedy got in and pulled her door shut. She picked up her Rubik’s cube and swizzled it around. “I got you a cookie but I gave it away. Guy was fucking starving. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that hungry.”
    Adam let the car coast in a free fall down the hill toward town. Twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty, forty-five, fifty. “Guy was nuts,” he said.
    Â 
    P atrick carried the coffee into the parking lot across the road from his old dorm. Even though it served no actual purpose, Buildings and Grounds kept the grass surrounding the lot neatly mowed. He circled the tidy, green perimeter, headed for the depression in the lot’s far corner, one of his favorite resting spots. He liked to stretch out in the sun in that particular grassy dimple, obscured from the road and the rest of campus by the cars in the lot. But today a black Mercedes sedan was parked at an awkward angle, half in the lot and half in the grass. The car bore Connecticut plates and a Greenwich beaches parking sticker. It was the car he’d learned to drive on, and it was in his spot.
    â€œShit,” Patrick swore, about to turn and run. After all these years they’d finally come after him. Then he noticed the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. His parents hadn’t smoked whenhe lived at home, and it was doubtful they’d taken it up since then. He moved closer to the car and put his nose up against the driver’s-side window. Gum wrappers and cassettes littered the passenger seat, along with a rumpled white Greenwich Academy sweatshirt.
    The door