Honey, Baby, Sweetheart Read Online Free PDF

could see a grandfather clock just past the parted draperies, but averted my eyes quickly so I wouldn’t be caught looking. I was happy to be leaving; at any moment I pictured his mother appearing, wearing slacks and someshirt that would have cost as much as my mother made in a week at the library, telling me to put my arms back where they belonged.
The bike roared to life, cruised down the driveway, and arced out of the gates. That arc felt wonderful, like turning on your side on one of the roller coasters at the Gold Nugget Amusement Park, the squealing feeling of maybe going over but being mostly sure you wouldn’t. We sped down Cummings Road and passed my neighborhood, where no one knew I was speeding by on Travis Becker’s motorcycle. I mean, there I was with my arms around Travis Becker, riding his motorcycle! The arms of his T-shirt were flapping in the wind. I was riding past my own street, away. It felt great. It felt terrifying.
And then Travis Becker accelerated. Just after my neighborhood, where Cummings Road goes on for a long, straight stretch and all that is out there are the U-Cut Christmas Tree farms, Travis Becker hit the gas. There was a sudden, huge jolt backward as he changed gears. I leaned forward, held myself tight against Travis Becker, fighting the force that made me feel that if I loosened my grip, I’d fly off the back. I’d never been on a motorcycle before, but I knew this wasn’t just regular speed, this was fast. Way, way too fast.
I hung on tight. My heart thumped madly; I was sure he could feel it. I was struck solidly with the knowledge that I was somewhere I shouldn’t be, way beyond my depths, in a very wrong place. I wanted off. I wanted out of there, and my own earlier planning and plotting to passthat house when he might be there seemed foolish and embarrassing beyond belief. God, I didn’t belong there.
Travis Becker laughed loudly over the wind. “Whooee!” he shouted. His hair was whipping around wildly. He didn’t even have a helmet on.
A shout, Slow down! stuck in my throat. I didn’t, couldn’t, let it out. Here it is—I was afraid of looking stupid, which is, of course, when you do the most stupid things of all.
I thought about the possibility of hitting a piece of gravel. I thought about the way you lunge forward when you stub your toe. I thought about the way your skin would be peeled off if your body flew across the asphalt at this speed.
I shut my eyes against Travis Becker’s back, and when I thought I couldn’t take any more, he went faster. Up a notch of speed, and I closed my eyes, squinched them tight and prayed simply to get out of there safely, though I wouldn’t blame God or anyone else for not listening to someone who had gotten herself into such a mess. I’m not here, I begged my mind to believe. I’m somewhere else. I could feel sweat dripping down my arms in rivulets. If I got out of there alive, I’d be embarrassed about my wet shirt.
He slowed down again, turned in to one of the Christmas tree farms, and stopped, turned the engine off. Already some of the trees in the rows were taller than Travis Becker, though some barely reached my knee. I got off his bike; my legs were shaking. He put his kickstanddown and got off too. His face was red, his eyes bright and exhilarated, ice blue flashes of electricity. I unsnapped that helmet from my chin, took it off.
“You know how fast we were going?’ he said.
“No,” I said.
“Over a hundred. Over a hundred, and you didn’t even scream.”
“Why would I scream?” I said. To tell the truth, I felt like throwing up. Right on top of his expensive athletic shoes.
“Oh, shit,” he laughed. “You’re fearless.” Fearless. A single word can hold such power. I could be that, if that’s what he thought I was. I could be a lot of things I never considered before.
Travis Becker took off running. “Catch me,” he yelled. He disappeared into the rows of tall trees. I could see flashes of his yellow