The Last Song Read Online Free PDF Page B

that resembled dandruff.
    Great.
    She wished the guy had rammed into someone else. She was only there for what, ten minutes? What were the odds that she’d turn away at the same instant the ball came flying her way? And that she’d be holding a soda in a crowd at a volleyball game she didn’t even want to watch, in a place she didn’t want to be? In a million years, the same thing could probably never happen again. With odds like that, she should have bought a lottery ticket.
    And then there was the guy who did it. Brown-haired, brown-eyed cute guy. Up close, she realized he was way better looking than cute, especially when he got that expression of… concern. He might have been part of the popular crowd, but in the nanosecond their eyes had met, she’d had the strangest sense that he was as real as they came.
    Ronnie shook her head to clear her mind of such crazy thoughts. Clearly the sun was affecting her brain. Satisfied that she’d done the best she could with the napkin, she picked up the cup of soda. She planned to throw the rest away, but as she spun around, she felt the cup get jammed between her and someone else. This time, nothing happened in slow motion; the soda instantly covered the front of her shirt.
    She froze, staring down at her shirt in disbelief. You’ve got to be kidding.
    Standing before her was a girl her age holding a Slurpee, seemingly as surprised as she was. She was dressed in black, and her stringy dark hair hung in unruly curls framing her face. Like Kayla, she had at least half a dozen piercings in each ear, highlighted with a couple of miniature skulls that dangled from her earlobes, and her dark eye shadow and eyeliner gave her an almost feral appearance. As the remains of her soda soaked through Ronnie’s shirt, Goth-looking chick motioned with her Slurpee toward the spreading stain.
    “Sucks being you,” she said.
    “Ya think?”
    “At least the other side matches now.”
    “Oh, I get it. You’re trying to be funny.”
    “‘Witty’ is more like it.”
    “Then you might have said something like ‘Maybe you should stick with sippy-cups.’”
    Goth-chick laughed, a surprisingly girlish sound. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
    “No, I’m from New York. I’m here visiting my dad.”
    “For the weekend?”
    “No. For the summer.”
    “It does suck being you.”
    This time, it was Ronnie’s turn to laugh. “I’m Ronnie. It’s short for Veronica.”
    “Call me Blaze.”
    “Blaze?”
    “My real name’s Galadriel. It’s from Lord of the Rings . My mom’s weird like that.”
    “At least she didn’t name you Gollum.”
    “Or Ronnie.” With a tilt of her head, she motioned over her shoulder. “If you want something dry, there are some Nemo shirts in the booth over there.”
    “Nemo?”
    “Yeah, Nemo. From the movie? Orange-and-white fish, gimpy flipper? Gets stuck in a fish tank and his dad goes to find him?”
    “I don’t want a Nemo shirt, okay?”
    “Nemo’s cool.”
    “Maybe if you’re six,” Ronnie retorted.
    “Suit yourself.”
    Before Ronnie could respond, she spied three guys pushing their way through a parting mob. They stood out from the beach crowd with their torn shorts and tattoos, bare chests showing beneath heavy leather jackets. One had a pierced eyebrow and was carrying an old-fashioned boom box; another had a bleached Mohawk and arms completely covered with tattoos. The third, like Blaze, had long black hair offset by milky white skin. Ronnie turned instinctively to Blaze, only to realize that Blaze was gone. In her place stood Jonah.
    “What did you spill on your shirt?” he asked. “You’re all wet and sticky.”
    Ronnie searched for Blaze, wondering where she’d gone. And why. “Just go away, okay?”
    “I can’t. Dad’s looking for you. I think he wants you to come home.”
    “Where is he?”
    “He stopped to go to the bathroom, but he should be here any minute.”
    “Tell him you didn’t see me.”
    Jonah