Dead Girl in Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

thawed, the vegetables washed, and I set out your favorite spices.”
    Then Alyce’s mother sent me into the kitchen.
    To cook dinner.

    Now, the first thing everyone knows about me (Amber) is that while I love eating, I’m hopeless in the kitchen. The extent of my culinary talent is using a can opener or following microwave instructions. Alyce, on the other hand, has a creative touch that includes gorgeous gift baskets for our school club, photography, and cooking. Alyce often teases me that I’d starve if I had to feed myself.
    So when Mrs. Perfetti left me alone in the smallish kitchen with its yellow-tiled counters and dark-wood cabinets, I stared around in horror.
    Me, cook? This was like a waking nightmare.
    I couldn’t do this on my own and knew only one person who might help. Retrieving Alyce’s cell phone from Monkey Bag, I deleted the nine missed texts (from her mother), then made my call.
    Dustin Cole, my second-best friend, was part hacker/geek/activist and liked to plot covert online strikes against “corrupiticians” (as Alyce nicknamed dirty politicians). His bedroom, or “Headquarters” as he called it, was crammed with electronic equipment that hummed and flashed with artificial life. There was no bed, only a couch and a sleeping bag that was usually covered with crumpled papers and snack wrappers.
    Dustin’s tone was wary when he heard my voice. “Alyce?”
    “Not exactly. Guess again.”
    “Don’t tell me you … you’re … ”
    “You’re getting warm.”
    He groaned. “Amber?”
    “And the smart guy wins a prize.”
    “It had better be a really good prize, like my own personal communication satellite,” he grumbled. “I need a scorecard to keep up with your body-switches.”
    “I’ve only had three—and the first one was an accident.”
    “Just stay away from my body—that would not be cool.”
    “But I’ve always been curious what it’s like to pee standing up.”
    “Convenient but overrated.”
    “And it would be interesting to see inside a guys’ locker room.”
    “As if I spend any time there,” Dustin said scornfully. “I choose not to break bones over contact sports. I have a file of legal keep-out-of-gym excuses, all signed by a doctor. Not necessarily my doctor, but whatever works.”
    “Everything works for you,” I said, chuckling. It felt sooo good to joke around with Dustin like nothing had changed.
    “So what’s the deal with Alyce?” His serious tone reminded me exactly how much had changed. I imagined him leaning back in his chair, tapping his fingers on his desktop. His eyes would be closed to shut out distractions, so he could listen with total concentration.
    “She’s taking a time-out.” I glanced down at my temporary hands with their frosted black fingernails. Alyce was into black, draped outfits and gruesome jewelry but insisted she wasn’t Goth.
    “I thought you were done with body-hopping.”
    “I thought so too.” I sighed. Then I explained how Grammy convinced me to take just one more assignment. “I had to do it—for Alyce.”
    “And what about you?” Dustin asked in his quiet, perceptive way that never failed to disarm me. “Are you okay?”
    I glanced at the counter where Mrs. Perfetti had set out onions, tomatoes, cheese, spices, chicken parts, and pasta noodles. “I’m burning in culinary hell. Alyce’s mother expects me to cook dinner.”
    When Dustin stopped laughing, he offered to help. “Cooking is easy.”
    “Do you realize who you’re talking to? When it comes to directions, I always end up choosing the wrong way.”
    “You’re good at math, aren’t you?”
    “Math doesn’t have anything to do with cooking.”
    “Wrong. Cooking is one big math equation,” he said.
    Then he explained about washing, slicing, measuring, and baking. It took a while to figure out the chemistry of blending ingredients, but Dustin was a great teacher. If he ever gave up his ambition to overthrow the government, he could be a