The Best Friend Read Online Free PDF Page A

something bad that had happened. “You were so hurt. So upset. Your father and I don’t want to see you that upset again.”
    â€œMom—” Becka started, but restrained herself.
    â€œWhere are you going? It’s almost dinnertime,” her mother said, noticing the parka.
    â€œI’m not sneaking out to meet, Bill, if that’s what you mean,” Becka replied shrilly.
    â€œBecka—!”
    â€œI’m just going next door. I’ll be right back.” Becka pushed past her mother and out the front door. She slammed the door behind her and stepped out into the snow.
    She raised her face to the sky. The cold snowflakes felt good on her hot cheeks.
    Sometimes her mother made her so mad. What business was it of hers if Becka wanted to go out with Bill?
    â€œWhen is she going to stop interfering in my life?” Becka cried aloud. “When?” she demanded of the sky.
    She got a snowflake on her tongue in reply.
    She lowered her head, pulling the parka hood over her hair, and began to trudge across her snow-covered front yard to Honey’s house.
    The house had been vacant for several months. Becka eased her way through the untrimmed hedge that divided the two yards. The tall weeds that had taken over the unmowed lawn poked up through the snow.
    It’ll be good to have someone in the house, she thought. It was so creepy to see it standing empty like that.
    Approaching the front of the house, she stopped just past the snow-covered driveway.
    And looked up at the house—and gasped.

chapter

5
    T he house is still empty, Becka realized with a shudder.
    Honey had lied about moving next door.
    A gust of wind sent a curtain of powdery snow across the yard. The bare trees rattled and creaked, then resumed their silent watch over the house.
    The dark, still house.
    Becka stared from window to window, searching for a light, any sign of life. But the old house, snow drifts pushed up against its dark shingles, icicles hanging from the low roof of the front stoop, appeared as empty and deserted as it had for months.
    â€œHow can this be?” Becka said aloud.
    As she trudged up the unshoveled walk to the ice-covered front steps, she felt a shiver run down her back, a shiver of dread.
    There were footprints in the snow, but they were old, half filled in by the afternoon’s snowfall.
    Becka slipped on the first step, but stopped herselffrom falling by grabbing onto the metal rain down-spout beside the stoop. Making her way more carefully, she crossed the small, square stoop and pounded hard on the front door.
    Silence.
    Leaning off the stoop, she peeked into the living room window.
    Darkness inside.
    Were those cartons against the wall? Too dark to tell.
    She knocked again. Tried the doorbell, but the button was frozen in place.
    Silence.
    Another wind gust tossed a swirl of powdery snow onto the stoop.
    Shivering, Becka turned away from the dark, empty house, carefully made her way down the frozen stairs, and started to jog home.
    Where is Honey? she wondered, questions swirling across her mind like the flakes of snow being tossed by the wind. Why did she appear so suddenly and lie about moving in next door? Where is my parrot pin? There’s got to be a logical explanation for this—right?
    Right?
    â€œDid you see Mary Harwood when she came out of the supply closet with David Metcalf? She had a big purple spot on her neck.” Lilah shook her head and giggled.
    Becka stopped walking and gaped at her friend. “You mean a hickey?”
    Lilah rolled her eyes. “Mary said it was a mosquito bite. Isn’t that lame? A mosquito bite in December?”
    Both girls laughed and began walking again. It was a bright afternoon, the sun high in the sky, making the melting snow sparkle like silver. School had just let out, and they had decided to walk home.
    â€œWhat’s with Mary’s mother?” Becka asked, shifting her backpack from one shoulder to the