Overdrive Read Online Free PDF Page B

heating up now.” He wipes the back of his mouth and hands back the bottle.
    â€œDidn’t you just open a soda?” I say.
    Mat shrugs. “Chelsea’s bottle looked better.”
    â€œGross,” she says. “Now I’ve got Mat germs.”
    Their laughter cuts through the thick tension that’s settled on the couch. I try not to think about it as I guide my character through a series of rapid lunges, kicks, and sprints, then dart into a dark back alley.
    Mat points at a lone Mustang under a virtual spotlight. “There’s an easy boost.”
    Not always. “Nah, I need something with more guts.”
    Nick shoots me a dark glare. “It’s not what’s under the hood that matters.”
    Experience tells me that most new Mustangs run a stock engine—enough torque to stoke male pride, but not much in the way of a serious getaway car. Launching into this discussion with Nick feels like social suicide, though, so I ignore the bait.
    I spot a Camaro tucked behind a garbage Dumpster and toggle my character forward. My adrenaline surges. Seconds later, I’ve virtual hot-wired the car, and bikini girl and I are set to ride into the smog-filled horizon.
    Mat reaches across Chelsea to give me a high five. “Impressive.”
    I slough off the compliment with a half-assed shrug.
    â€œNo really, you totally knew what you were doing—in and done. Practically invisible or something. . . .”
    Nick snorts. “Or something . . .”
    My breath catches, but Chelsea doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ve obviously done this before.”
    I set the controller on the coffee table, so not liking where this conversation’s headed, grab a handful of Chelsea’s popcorn, and stuff my mouth to stop from blurting out something I don’t mean.
    â€œThief!” she shouts with a laugh.
    The word lands hard. Over the thundering roar of my heartbeat, I swear I hear Nick snicker.
    I stand on shaky legs. “I’m heading to bed.”
    Chelsea’s pink-frosted lips form a pout. “Oh, hey, hope I didn’t hit a nerve there. You know I was just joking around, right?” Two worry lines knot above her perfectly groomed eyebrows. “Like Nick says, we’ve all got a rough past.”
    â€œDon’t let the bedbugs bite,” Nick cuts in.
    Jesus. Just how far is that joystick stuck up his ass?
    I’m itching to continue a conversation with Chelsea, but one look at Nick’s scowl and my curiosity shrivels like an overripe grape. And of course I’m so flustered and pissed off, I trip on the edge of a throw rug and pitch myself into the hall.
    Right into Roger.
    Like things could get any worse.
    He tilts his head. “Somehow I thought you’d be more graceful than that.”
    I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. Tears brim in my eyes and that sucks because I’m already tired of crying. Tired of trying to understand Nick, this place, Roger, all of it.
    â€œI’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
    His apology draws out a strangled sob.
    â€œOh dear,” he says. “I’m sure this is all quite overwhelming.”
    His tone is soft, comforting, like a Toyota Supra after a fresh tune-up. I’m not buying it.
    â€œGive it some time,” he goes on. “You’ll feel at home before long.”
    Home.
    My chest fills with air so fast I think it might explode. “I just need to blow off some steam.”
    Roger’s mustache lifts with a fake smile. “I have the perfect solution. Come.”
    The animated chatter in the games room fades as I respond to Roger’s command. I scope out the rooms down the hall—a cherrywood desk fills an office, a hot tub in the spa overlooks Mount Charleston, and a life-size knight in polished armor guards another room with a stocked bar and two pool tables. Something about the statue looks familiar.
    â€œWhat’s with all