Saving Phoebe Murrow: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

“I thought you were, uh, going to—uh—” she groped for the end of the sentence. To another school, she wanted to say.
    â€œSo who’s Kevin?” Jessie said, intervening smoothly.
    â€œHe’s a sophomore. Very awesome dude.” Turning back to Phoebe, Skyla said, “Don’t you just love the salad bar, Feebs?” Feebs was Phoebe’s nickname from grade school.
    At the mention of food, Phoebe’s stomach twisted painfully and the urge to flee grew. But Skyla’s entourage had formed a tight circle around the girls, giggling and chattering and nodding, making escape impossible. “Yeah, it’s great,” Phoebe managed, dreading what Skyla would say next, wishing she would leave.
    Skyla cocked her head, and Phoebe took a step back, afraid of her penetrating eyes, as if in a single glance they could decipher her every thought and fear. “Look,” Skyla said, leaning in confidentially and lowering her voice, “could we like maybe leave all that crap behind, you know, from last year? And sit together at lunch?” Her eyebrows rose half an inch.
    Phoebe studied her face, searching for the familiar hint of sarcasm, but Skyla’s expression seemed genuine. And the warmth of her voice lingered, enveloping Phoebe like a down blanket. Despite their tortured past, Phoebe could feel herself wanting to believe Skyla. For a moment, she hovered between two worlds. One in which she imagined herself smiling and walking away and another in which she let bygones be bygones. The chasm between the two seemed vast. Then, avoiding Jessie’s intense stare, Phoebe said, “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
    â€œOkay, deal,” Skyla said and lifted her palm for a high five. Phoebe smacked it. As if she’d completed her mission, Skyla said, “Let’s go,” to her troupe and tilted her head toward the door just as the school buzzer bleated. Like a flock of butterflies, Skyla and her friends fluttered away, whispering and laughing.
    Phoebe began to move with them until she felt Jessie’s arm jerk her back.
    Phoebe stopped. “What?”
    â€œExactly, what the hell was that?”
    â€œI guess she wants to be friends.”
    â€œSeriously? She calls you ‘Feebs’ once, invites you to lunch, and you trust her? After what she did to you all last year?!”
    â€œMaybe she’s changed.”
    Jessie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Murrow, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Chapter Four
Friday, September 26, 2008
    Often the simple things in life made Sandy happy. And Fridays were one of them. Today, though, as she rummaged through her gargantuan closet, a touch of anxiety bubbled up. Generally, Sandy experienced little nervousness, but the task at hand, selecting the appropriate dress for the evening’s ninth grade parents’ party, prompted perfect rings of sweat to blossom on her t-shirt.
    One part of her looked forward to the event, while another wished that this Friday marked nothing more than the beginning of a casual weekend, a time when she’d no longer be alone in the oversized house Bill had built for her. On Fridays, she looked forward to doing things with Jessie – chatting, shopping, goofing around – and with Bill – dinner out, a movie, a round of golf with a few friends. The latter ranked right up there as one of her favorite activities, though she hadn’t managed to get any of the women at Jessie’s middle school to join her. She assumed it was because they belonged to the wrong club. The Woodmont moms, and now the ones at Georgetown Academy, belonged either to the Chevy Chase Club or to Congressional. She and Bill belonged to Kenwood.
    In Towson, some thirty miles north of DC, where Sandy grew up, she’d joined her high school golf team after her stepfather had taken her to a public course. She’d had such a good time with Les that she wanted to replicate the experience.