Trouble from the Start Read Online Free PDF Page A

headed into the bathroom that separated my bedroom from Tyler’s. Briefly I wondered why anyone thought drinking alcohol was a good idea.
    I turned on the shower, stood under a stream of hot water, and let it wash away the cobwebs. As I began to feel like maybe I wasn’t going to die, my thoughts drifted to my last moments with Fletcher. Did he ever get within a foot of a girl and not kiss her? So why hadn’t he kissed me?
    Pressing my forehead to the tile, I wondered if I could be any more superficial—wanting a kiss just so I could say that I had one that wasn’t prompted by a dumb game. But it had been more than that. For a few seconds after I got off his bike, it seemed a connection was forming between us. I really thought he was going to kiss me, that he wanted to kiss me. To my utter mortification, I had wanted him to kiss me. But why would he when I’d barfed in front of him?
    I had to have misread him. He probably had no desire whatsoever to kiss me. I could only hope that I hadn’t stood there looking all doe-eyed, like I was waiting for him to make a move. Thank goodness, I would probably never ever cross paths with him again. We had no classes together, and we had only one more week of school. The odds were in my favor that I’d never see him again.
    Last night could be forgotten, would never come back to bite me in the butt.
    I got out of the shower. After drying off quickly and pulling my blond hair back into a ponytail, I slipped into white shorts, a purple tank top, and sparkly flip-flops. Then I headed downstairs.
    I always looked forward to Dad’s summer projects. In his line of work, he encountered a lot of kids with less than stellar parents. Even so, being taken away from your family and familiar surroundings—no matter how much they might suck—wasn’t an easy thing. The unknown was scary, so we worked to make the kids feel secure. Usually they were preteen. Dad would get them on a baseball team. Mom would take them clothes shopping. Tyler taught them to rock at video games. I took them to museums and parks, read to them, and offered them a sisterly ear whenever they needed it.
    I hit the entryway and bounced through the dining room into the bright yellow kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the windows. I could hear Mom’s laughter outside. I opened the door that led onto the back deck and staggered to a stop—
    Stared up into familiar brown eyes, although one was decorated with a mosaic of dark bruises that hadn’t been there when he’d given me a ride home the night before.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I asked, totally confused.He’d ridden off—without giving me a kiss. I was never supposed to see him again. Ever.
    â€œFletcher’s staying with us this summer,” Dad said.
    All the breath left my body. Fletcher Thomas was Dad’s project?
    How had that happened? If he were a little kid, I would smile, hug him, and tell him that I was glad he was here. But this was Fletcher. A guy who had seen me at my worst. A guy who attracted trouble.
    Keeping his eyes on me but shifting his stance, Fletcher looked as though he didn’t know what to say any more than I did. My parents were studying us, and Tyler was looking up at me with expectation. I was supposed to be setting an example for him, so I smiled brightly and said, “It’s . . . great to have you here.”
    His eyes never leaving mine, he said, “Thanks.”
    But what I heard was, “Liar.”
    Mom touched his shoulder. “Why don’t you relax by the pool while we finish getting lunch ready?”
    He shifted his gaze to her. “Thanks.”
    That seemed to be the extent of his vocabulary this morning. Not that I blamed him. I felt like I had dropped into an alternate universe. He probably felt the same. He gave me one last glance before heading for the pool. Mom took Tyler into the kitchen, since it was his job to help her get