Driver's Dead Read Online Free PDF

student.” Over his shoulder, he said, “I don’t know, girls, I think we got a front-runner for that Escort.”
    â€œOh, please,” Maria muttered.
    Kirsten wanted to puke.
    Sara took her turn next.
    As Gwen climbed into the backseat, she was smiling triumphantly. A just-try-to-beat-that kind of smile.
    After Sara, Kirsten drove. She ran a stop sign, bumped the curb on a wide turn, and was cursed at by one driver. Mr. Busk said he was pleased at the improvement.
    Later, walking away from class with Maria, Kirsten felt morose. “I swear, I will never learn to drive.”
    â€œWell, Kirsten, let’s face it—you will probably not win the contest,” Maria replied. “But between you and me, that’s okay. What Gwen doesn’t realize is that the winner of the Escort has to marry Mr. Busk.”
    â€œGross!”
    â€œYou’ll get the hang of it. Don’t worry. Everybody does. My grandmother, who grew up in the city like you, learned how to drive at age fifty.”
    â€œNow I’m inspired,” Kirsten said dryly. “I’ll do it by forty-nine.”
    â€œThat’s the spirit!”
    At their usual turn-off spot in front of the school, they said good-bye.
    Kirsten hadn’t gotten a half block away before she heard a car horn blowing “Taps.”
    She turned to see an old, beat-up Mustang on Oversized wheels. “Want a ride?” called a deep, throaty voice.
    Rob was inside. He was leaning clear across the seat to talk to her through the passenger window—and was still driving straight.
    Alligator eyes. That’s what they were like, Kirsten decided. She had once seen a photo of an alligator-filled swamp at night. The photo was almost pitch-black, except for what looked like tiny pairs of floating green fireballs. That was how you knew alligators were there.
    â€œUm … yeah, I guess,” Kirsten answered.
    He pulled up to the curb and stopped. The car was a wreck. Rob was moving the soda cans, magazines, and plastic wrappers from the passenger bucket seat and tossing them in the back. Billows of shredded foam stuck out of the seat’s ripped seams. Rob quickly covered them with an old T-shirt he took off the floor. “Come on in.”
    He’s got to be kidding, Kirsten thought. He expects me to sit on that?
    â€œThe shirt’s clean,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
    Oh. Well. In that case. Kirsten pulled open the door.
    She took a quick look behind her. Maria was a block away, staring in intense disapproval.
    With a shrug and a guilty smile, Kirsten sat in the car.
    It was a ride, for God’s sake, not an elopement.
    Maria would get over it.
    The T-shirt bunched down around the small of her back, but Kirsten didn’t mind. “Thanks,” she said.
    â€œNo problem.” He glided to a smooth stop at a red light.
    He was a very good driver.
    Kirsten sneaked a look at him as he watched the light. His brows were dark and coffee-brown, slanting upward, chiseling his forehead with neat parallel lines of concern.
    â€œI’m Rob Maxson,” he said, still staring straight ahead.
    â€œKirsten Wilkes.”
    â€œHm. Nice name.” Rob made a right turn onto Merrick Road, then a quick left onto Burnside. “I … I’m sorry for that trick I pulled on you yesterday. I hope I didn’t scare you too much.”
    â€œWell, it was a little … scary.”
    Ugh. Nothing like disagreeing, and not even finding original words to do it with.
    Rob nodded. “I can be a jerk sometimes. A crazy idea pops into my head, and something gets into me. I say, ‘Go for it’ without thinking. I don’t know why.”
    â€œThat’s okay.” Kirsten was impressed. Boys and apologies usually didn’t go together. Especially boys like Rob. This was a nice surprise. “I get that way, too. I mean, I’m here, right?”
    Rob’s laughter was sudden and