The Book of David Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Why do you have a T-shirt promoting mischievous fairies?”
    â€œDude. It’s a band.”
    â€œReally?” I asked. “Never heard of ’em.”
    â€œI’m not surprised. They don’t get a lot of play on Redneck-Country-104.”
    I shot him a look. “Redneck country, huh?”
    He met my gaze and held it. “You’re one of those ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ types, aren’t you?”
    Something about the way he said “Achy Breaky Heart” made my irritation about being called a redneck melt away. Or maybe it was his smirk. I started laughing again. “Achy Breaky Heart? Like . . . Miley Cyrus’s dad? C’mon, man. He sang that song before I was born.”
    â€œYeah, but admit it.” He was totally going for it now. “You’re a big ol’ country lover at heart.”
    â€œWell . . . yeah.” I smiled. “Maybe I’ve never heard The Pixies, but do you know any George Strait?”
    Jon stared at me. “Strait?”
    â€œYeah. What’s wrong with ‘Strait’?”
    He smiled in this way that made me unsure what we were talking about. He raised his eyebrows and gave me this big innocent grin. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”
    We were silent for a couple seconds. I was so buzzed that all I could do was stare at the glowing embers.
    Jon broke the silence. “I wanna hear some.”
    â€œSome what?”
    â€œSome George Strait.”
    I looked at him. I could see his face in the glow of the embers from the bonfire, and his eyes glinted, full and serious. No smirk.
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah,” he said. “Send me a playlist. Or burn me a CD. Or whatever. I’ll make you one of The Pixies.”
    â€œOkay.” I smiled at him. “Where’d you move from again?”
    â€œChicago.”
    I groaned. “Yankee.”
    He laughed. “Yep.”
    â€œWhat made ya’ll come South?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “Dad got a job.”
    Jon didn’t seem to want to talk about it. We sat there for a while on the log by the fire, listening to the music from the party up at the house and the sounds of the river. I felt warm,and alive, and ready to bust—like there was this energy surging through me. It crossed my mind that maybe we should go back up to the house and find Monica and Amy. How long had we been down here, just the two of us? But the truth was, I liked hanging out with Jon. I didn’t want the girls around. My legs were itching like I needed to run. I imagined Jon and me jumping up and whooping and racing down to the edge of the river, then running along it for miles until we were in the middle of nowhere.
    â€œI don’t really think you’re a redneck,” he said.
    I laughed. “I may be a big redneck. I drive a truck. I listen to country. I have no idea what your T-shirts mean, Yankee.”
    â€œThey’re all bands.”
    â€œAll of ’em?” I asked. “The Who? The Smiths . . . ?”
    He looked surprised. “Somebody’s been paying attention.”
    My stomach dropped like I was on the kamikaze waterslide at Wild River Country. “I just . . . I mean . . . You were . . .” I was stuttering all over the place. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed my knee.
    â€œIt’s cool.” His hand on my knee made me jump like he’d dropped an ice cube down my shirt. My heart was racing again. His fingers left my jeans, but I could still feel the heat of where he had touched me, the weight of his palm burning through the denim. “Didn’t think you’d end up trading shotswith the drama geek tonight, did you?” His smirk was back.
    I laughed. How did he do that? One second he had me jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs and the next second, he cracked me up.
    â€œWhat were you doing at the game tonight,