Roadkill (LiveWire) Read Online Free PDF Page B

winds me up. I get that you two have a relationship, have sex….,” (she winces) “…and it doesn’t bother me. What I want is for everyone to stop asking me if I’m okay! I AM FINE!” Before I know it I’m shouting.
    She just stands there, twisting the necklace, looking sad. I walk out, showering furiously, ignoring Garry when he asks if I want breakfast, if I’m okay, and slam the front door.
    Heading down the road, I start to cool down, realise I am way too early to meet Leo, and curse Mum and Garry for driving me out when I wanted to check LiveWire again. Unlike my best friend I do not carry my laptop at every available opportunity. Bugger.
    Mr Watts at number ten is washing his black fiat. He trots carefully round to the other side, directing the hose with concentration, scrubbing the wheel arches. Rubbish car like that, why is he bothering? Kids are spilling out onto the road carrying bikes, footballs, skateboards. In the distance The Road is humming like a furious insect, busy with families desperate to get a day at the beach, oblivious to the fact they will actually spend more of their time in a bumper to bumper gridlock. My flip flops slap a furious tattoo on the dust choked pavement, and I pull out my phone;
     
    ‘Going to be early, meet you at Ratz’
     
    Although, I could quite easily pop into town and hit a few charity shops, for some reason I just can’t do it by myself. How pathetic is that?
    I’ll get some coffee and find a good seat to watch the competition, and when Leo comes he can tell me his grand discovery. Ratz is a shabby coffee place that blares loud R ‘n’ B 24/7. The drinks are cheap and they do great burgers. Of course to get to the park I have to cross the bridge. Which I will do this time without keeling over like a wimp. Tossing my still wet hair back, I stride towards the crossing. The huge ancient oak trees cast shade bars over the path. Their glossy dancing leaves whisper encouragement. My heart beats faster, sweat starting again, even though I am dressed in shorts and another of Rose’s vest tops, and the sun is still a gentle early morning glow.
    ‘R u ok ova the bridge want me 2 walk u?’
    ‘no thanx x’
    Because, you see, this time I have help. As I step onto the bridge, firmly averting my eyes from the rushing cars, focusing on the blue dog poo bin on the other side, I pull out a small photo. Me and Rose messing around in a booth, her arm round my shoulders, chin on my head, smiling protectively. Our long hair tangled red and black.
    “So I found this add on for the site,” Leo is breathless with excitement, watching me expectantly as we hunch over his laptop.
    “And you just clicked on it?” I suggest, good humour restored by a massive caffeine hit and Rose’s help conquering the bridge.
    “Idiot. I don’t think ginger is supposed to be quite as dumb as blonde but sometimes I do wonder.”
    I slap him, and lean into the screen, fizzing with anticipation. This means something, I can tell, or maybe I just drank too much coffee!
    “Oh look, don’t they make a cute couple. Set a date yet guys?” Anita is taking her seat noisily two rows behind. Her bitchy little entourage, heavily made up, teeny skirts, and sky high heels, totter in next to her.
    Rose’s picture burns a hole in my purse, and as Leo cringes I swing round, “Get lost Anita. Just go find some dumb boys to show off to. Although,” I sweep a contemptuous glance over the sharp faced, weasily crew, “guess you could head off Lacey Street and make some cash.”
    Leo draws a sharp breath, as I make a show of turning my back and returning to our huddle. The sun beats down in a flash of fire, and in my hand, Rose nods her approval. Lacey Street is in the west of town, where the all night bars, and dodgy takeaways compete for the drunks, the homeless; and the prostitutes. 1-0 to me I think.
    Anita looks shocked, as though a mouse has raised its head and blown a raspberry at her. Then she leans