What I Thought Was True Read Online Free PDF Page A

can’t
    resist a quick reverse look at him. He just stands there, arms still folded, watching me scurry off like some hard-shelled creature
    scrabbling over the seafloor. Except without the handy armor.
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Chapter Four
    I keep speed-walking down Low Road, my thoughts racing
    ahead of my feet . The yard boy is everywhere on island, all summer long. Cass will haunt my summer the way he preoccupied my spring.
    I hear a sound behind me, rubber on sand, skidding. I turn,
    my breath catching. But it’s just Vivien, bouncing over the
    speed bump on her old-fashioned, sky-blue Schwinn with
    the wicker basket, legs kicked out. She looks, deceptively, like
    an ad for something wholesome. Butter. Milk. Fresh fruit. Her
    glossy brown hair is caught up in pigtails that don’t look stupid, her cheeks glowing in the heat.
    “Hey!” she says. “Your mom told me where you were going.
    Wanted to say good luck.”
    “I thought you were meeting up with Nic.”
    Vivien flushes the way she always does at Nic’s name, the
    thought of Nic, the sight of him. Yes, things have shifted, rear-
    ranging our childhood trio into something different.
    She shakes her head. “I talked him into applying for the
    island painting and repair gig. He’s interviewing with Marco
    and Tony right now. If that works out, please God, he won’t
    have to rely on Hoop’s connections to get sketchy painting jobs
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    all over the state.” She rolls her eyes. “That was a good idea…
    why?”
    “Hoop’s an idiot,” I say. Nic’s best friend and partner for
    the summer in the house-painting business, Nat Hooper, can
    make a disaster of anything, and Nic is far too good-natured
    to stop him.
    I hear the zzzzzzz of the mower starting up again. It takes all my concentration not to look back over my shoulder. Did
    Vivien see Cass? She must’ve.
    “Hey, want to work a clambake with me Friday night?”
    Vivie asks. “Mom and Al are catering a rehearsal dinner. Ver-ry
    fahn-cy. It’s on the Hill—okay with that?”
    “Absolutely. Nic up for it too?”
    “Oh, for sure. We’ve got the bar covered, but low on waiters
    and servers. Hoop’s not sure he can make it—might have ‘a hot
    date with a special lady.’ Although I’m thinking the special lady
    is digitized. D’you know any other guy who’d be willing?”
    I can’t help shifting my eyes down the road. Vivien trails my
    gaze, and then stares back at me with a little crinkle between
    her eyebrows.
    “Have you seen this year’s yard boy?” I ask, wary.
    “Yup.” She watches my face. “I gave him the gate code when
    he drove in to report for duty this morning.”
    “You didn’t think to mention it to me? No warning text?
    Nothing?”
    “Oh shit, sorry.” Viv lowers her heels to regain bike balance.
    “I tried once, but you know how cell reception sucks here.”
    She sneaks another look over her shoulder. “I should have kept
    trying.”
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    I follow her eyes back to the Partridge house, where Cass
    has dutifully returned to mowing the lawn. Horizontally. Shirt
    off again, hair gleaming in the sun.
    My God .
    “What, Gwenners? Thinking of asking Cassidy to be a spare
    set of hands?” She tips her head at me, eyes twinkling.
    “No! What? No! You know my policy. Hands off . Avoid at
    all cost.”
    Vivien snorts. “You sure? Because you’re getting that glazed
    look that leads to bad judgment, impulsive decision-making,
    and a walk of shame.”
    Even though it’s Vivie, no real criticism there, I can feel my
    face go red. I look down at the ground, kick aside a pebble.
    “There were only two actual walks of shame.”
    Vivien’s face sobers. She flings her leg over the bike and
    knocks back the kickstand, moves closer. “Cassidy Somers . . .
    right here on the island. Just . . . watch