Exposed Read Online Free PDF Page A

our chairs, and almost stopped laughing.
    Mom’s cheeks are bright red and her eyes squint like they do when she’s trying really hard not to lose her temper. She points her finger and counts all the lamps in my room to make sure they’re still in one piece. Lauren steps up beside Mom, points her finger, and counts lamps, too.
    When Mom speaks, her voice is icy-nice. “I know you ladies weren’t twirling in the house after I remodeled our
entire
garage just for indoor practice.”
    Neither one of us says a word. I risk a glance at Lauren, and go for shifting attention away from Devin, me, and the baton-sounds Mom heard. “Are you through with my leotards? You know the rules—if you change back to regular clothes, they go back in my closet so they’re clean and nice when you want them next time.”
    Lauren huffs and starts to throw a fit, but Mom reaches down and squeezes her shoulder. “Go get the uniforms.”
    Like a cartoon character, Lauren jerks herself free, smooths her hair, and stomps out to fetch them.
    Mom watches her go and shakes her head. “Dad and I really need to talk about that new play she’s doing. Lauren’s dramatic tendencies do
not
need more encouragement.”
    She starts to leave, seems to remember why she came, and turns back to us, pointing her finger at our faces. “If the batons come out in the house again, I don’t care how old you are. I’ll use them to tan your hides. Got me?”
    “Yes ma’am,” we say at the same time.
    Devin lets out a breath as Mom shuts the door. So do I.
    But when I turn back to the computer, there’s my new e-pal profile, blaring out, bigger than life.
    “Oh, no.” I grab both sides of the screen, then throw Devin a desperate look. “Did she see it? Did she see us in the streaming video window—or the AmherstViolet337 name?”
    Devin shrugs and glances back at the door as if waiting for Mom to come charging back in and start yelling.
    At that exact second, a new message pops into my in-box, and not one of the generic porn-and-perv spams I usually get when I start a new profile.
    This one’s from KnightHawk859 with a subject line of: “Dear Goddess of Twirling.”
    Devin and I stare at the message, then at the door.
    No Mom.
    My finger slides across the laptop’s touchpad.
    “Girl, you better delete that,” Devin says in a low, tense voice. “It’s probably some freak.”
    “Yeah, but he thinks I’m a goddess.”
    She shakes her head and gives me the shut-up hand. “See, now you’re trippin’. He thinks
I’m
a goddess, not you.”
    I highlight the message from KnightHawk859 and click OPEN.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 13, WAY, WAY LATER
    Devin’s halfway through a sentence about how I’m an idiot for clicking on the message and how Knight-Hawk859 is probably some gutter-kissing lowlife when the message opens.
    KnightHawk’s face fills my screen.
    The sight of him makes Devin suck in her breath and shut her mouth so fast her teeth click together.
    So … do … mine.
    My entire world spins down to stillness. In the distance, I hear the murmur of Lauren’s television. Something clatters downstairs. Neither sound seems real or connected to the universe.
    In my room, the only noises are the soft rattle of the central heat and air fan and Devin’s breathing.
    KnightHawk has thick black hair trimmed even with his jaw, and he has big brown eyes. The kind of eyes I could stare into for hours. His upturned mouth makes a perfect heart, and his chin has the cutest dimple deadcenter. I want to push my thumb into the spot and watch him grin. KnightHawk’s head rests against his hand, and tattoos peek above his black shirtsleeve.
    Does the boy
ever
have some muscles, too.
    His note says:
Great stream, Red. You should pop a video to the Band Section.
    “OhmyGodhewaswatching,” Devin blurts. Then slower, “He saw us. Me. On that video.”
    I’m too busy staring at the e-mail to say anything.
    It’s signed
Paul, 1 st Trumpet, Jazz Band
, with a link to his