How to Meet Boys Read Online Free PDF

going somewhere new for a while: to start over, to reboot.
    I pictured our living room, kitchen, and deck crowded with people on a Saturday night. It could actually happen.

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    HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER 5
Lucy
    “Where is this yard sale? Shouldn’t we be there by now?” I asked.
    Mikayla scanned her phone with her pinky finger. “According to this . . . we should be turning right up here.”
    I came to a stop sign. We could either go straight, or turn left. “There’s no right. Should I go left?” I asked.
    “Maybe I have this upside down,” Mikayla wondered out loud. She stared at her phone, then rotated it a hundred and eighty degrees.
    I pulled over to the side of the road so I could look at the map. Not that I had a great, or even all that good, sense of direction, but couldn’t a map app help us with that? I studied the pin that showed our location.
    “We’ve gone too far,” I said. “We need to turn around.”
    “Us, going too far? That’s a first,” Mikayla joked.
    “Ha ha,” I said in a monotone. Then I cracked up laughing, because it was all too true.
    We’d been in our little cabin for one night and were already out the next morning looking for things to add to it. We needed groceries for the fridge, some more towels, curtains, a bathmat, a rug for the entryway—in fact, we were going to go into debt before we both started working on Thursday and got our first paychecks a week later.
    I’d scanned a local website looking for garage sales and yard sales: most were on the weekend, but a few started today.
    “I wish we were at home, I’d know exactly where to go thrifting for furniture,” Mikayla said. “Do you think it’s too late to make a quick road trip?”
    “It might be quicker than us trying to find Sandstone Road,” I muttered, staring at the map. Suddenly I noticed a landmark I recognized. “Now I know where we are. We have to turn around.”
    We drove back toward town and made a few turns, before ending up at the house having a yard sale. It looked a little run-down, but then again, so did our summerhouse. “This looks like one of those reality shows my mom loves, where we’re going to find some incredibly valuable item for a dollar. Then we sell it at auction and become filthy rich.”
    “I wish,” said Mikayla as we climbed out of the car. “Then we could use the money to pay for college.”
    “Or a trip around the world,” I said. “I mean, come on. Let’s think of something more exciting.”
    “Hey, funding college might not be thrilling, but it’s practical. If Ava got that kind of money, she’d probably blow it all on shoes,” Mikayla said, laughing. “Like last fall when she spent three hundred dollars on that pair she wore to homecoming—one night. Three hundred dollars.”
    “Yeah, and remember how her mom forced her to take them back the next day, after she’d danced in them all night?” I said.
    But somehow she got away with it. Ava had a knack for pulling off things that nobody else would be able to.
    I’d only been friends with Ava and Mikayla since ninth grade, when my parents decided to send me to a private high school. Oak Hills Academy (we called it OH! for short) had an insane dose of math, science, and classics, and a killer arts program. The three of us met during freshman orientation, a daylong event where we were broken into small groups called “pods” to get to know each other. Our group was called the Turtle Pod. We totally resented that. We’re not slow. We wanted to be in the Fox Pod, the Tiger Pod . . . something a little more sexy. “Turtles,” Ava had said at the time. “We’re the only ones named after reptiles. What, were snakes already taken?”
    We bonded when we had to carry an egg in a spoon across the football field. “We should be good at this,” Mikayla said. “Turtles carry eggs all the time.”
    We