Have Mercy (Have a Life #1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

okay.”
                  If there was one thing Jane couldn’t stand, it was keeping track of student excuses.  I knew for a fact that she never did roll call, so she wouldn’t even notice if Captain Kirby didn’t show.
                  “I’ll be there next time, though,” Captain Kirby said.
                  “Great,” Jane said, looking at me funny.  “Where’s Tim?”
                  “He’ll be here soon.  He’s at work.”             
                  Jane left and Captain Kirby and I started to see if we were simpatico musically and we definitely were and we were taking a break when she said, “Your mom is really hot.”  I felt like throwing up but instead I got out my cell phone to order a pepperoni pizza so we could eat when Tim showed up.
     
     

Chapter 5
     
    Captain Kirby grabbed the cell phone out of my hand before I could give Papa Johns the delivery address. 
                  “You can’t eat that shit,” she said.  “Pepperoni is full of nitrates and the cheese doesn’t even come from cows and the dough is loaded with gluten and the tomato sauce is corn syrup and red dye.  Technically it’s not food.  I can’t believe your mom lets you eat that stuff.” 
                  “She doesn’t know.  She would beat me if she did,” I lied. 
                  She put the cell to her ear.  “Sorry.  That was my kid.  No internet tonight for you, Dorothy,” she scolded and pushed end call. 
                  “Hey,” I said. “If they have caller ID, I’ll never be able to order from them again.” 
                    “I’ll cook us something.  What do you have in the fridge?”
                  Before I could stop her, she was taking the stairs two at a time and opening the refrigerator.  It was pretty gross in there: a lot of Chinese take-out, a six-pack of Yuengling, and an uncovered dish of something that had morphed into a science project.  “This looks like a frat house refrigerator,” she said and before I could come up with an appropriate response to her foodie pronouncements or ask her how she knew what the inside of a frat house looked like, we were in a bashed up VW van—a definite advantage of hanging with a junior is wheels—and she was explaining how her mom—out of nostalgia for the good old days she had been born too late to participate in—had bought the junker on eBay and we were pulling into the Wegman’s parking lot.
                  “Just a second,” she said, reaching behind the drivers’ seat and pulling out a maroon sweatshirt with Captain Janet Kirby, number 77, Regional Champions 2011 in big gold letters on the back.
                  “It’s kind of hot for that, isn’t it?” I said.
                  “We’re gonna need it.”
                  First stop was the fish counter where Kirby picked out some wild red Alaskan salmon. 
                  “You like fish, right?  Well, this wild stuff is a little gamey, isn’t it…Ralph,” she said reading the fish clerk’s nameplate, “but it’s better for you than that pink stuff, which is just coloring.  The fish are actually grey.  Not the fish’s fault.  Not your fault either, Ralph.  Just saying.”
                  The wild salmon was $23.00 a pound and she bought two pounds of it. 
                  “Forty-six bucks for some lousy fish!” I said.
                  “We’ll put some meat on your bones, Mercy.” she said and winked at Ralph. 
                  I started to feel uneasy.  She made me push the cart while she wandered through the produce
    aisles picking out tomatoes, showing me how to tell which were ripe and what would have to sit in a brown paper bag for a couple of days, a couple heads of lettuce, and some