Who's Your Daddy? Read Online Free PDF Page B

THAT word.)
    The sweep of his headlights across my body scared the living crap out of me, and I froze in mid-dangle, my fingers cramped around the windowsill. I’d chosen to climb out the window rather than leave the oldfashioned way because it meant I could (1) leave my stereo on and (2) lock my door from the inside, soanyone who checked would think I was still home, sleeping away to my music like usual.
    It was pitch dark out, but there I hung, trapped in the glare of the headlights, like some hardened crim scaling the wall of a prison while the searchlights moved over his orange-clad form. For several fingerdestroying moments, I didn’t move. I waited until Luke had disappeared inside the house, then jumped way too many feet from my window ledge to the ground.
    OOF!
    My landing knocked the wind out of me, so I hid facedown in the wild rosebush to catch my breath—which was NOT fun, let me tell you. Ever heard of freakin’ thorns?
    Luke’s bubbleheaded wench of a girlfriend stood outside next to the idling car the whole time, smoking a cigarette. I kept an eye on her, just in case she was stupid enough to drop the smoldering cigarette on the ground and start a forest fire, but—miracle of miracles—she didn’t.
    I waited until she’d safely stowed her ciggy butt in a Coke can inside the car, then I took in a deep now-ornever breath. Teeth clenched, I low-crawled across ourproperty until I reached the grove of aspen trees on the edge of the woods. Meryl would be waiting for me in her Überancient, turquoise Volvo station wagon on the other side of the ridge.
    I don’t know what brought Luke and Miffany (I am not making that name up, sadly enough) home, but I needed to get to Meryl before they drove by, saw Meryl, put two and two together, and ruined the whole night. Meryl’s ride wasn’t exactly the blend-in sort. I usually loved the Volvo, but right now I was wishing her parents had bought her a maroon Subaru Outback station wagon, aka the National Car of White Peaks, which would have virtually disappeared into the landscape; there were so many of them.
    I cast one more glance over my shoulder at the edge of the aspens, then stood up and crashed my way through the woods as if the Blair Witch was after me. Tree branches tore at my hair and clothing as I ran, and I fell not once, but three times. Hey, it was dark. What can I say? I had my camping headlamp clamped to my skull, but I couldn’t risk turning it on. Our neighborhood gets so dark, any light source, no matter how small, shines through the trees like a million candle-powerspot. So, I stumbled, ran, fell, and felt my way over the ridge to safety. I just prayed there were no bears or mountain lions lying in wait, with a huge hankering for a snack of freaked-out human.
    Relief rushed through me when I caught a glimpse of Meryl’s big ugly car, circa 1970-something, idling in the distance. I picked up speed, but tripped a few feet outside the car, launching myself airborne and landing facedown on the front window. OUCH.
    Meryl jumped half a mile, letting out a little shriek; then she reached over and unlocked the passenger door with a shaky hand.
    I peeled my aching body off the hood and hurled myself into the car, checking behind us before hunkering down in the seat.
    “You scared me!”
    “You knew I was coming,” I whispered, for no logical reason. It wasn’t like Luke and Friends had bionic hearing.
    “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d pull the bug-splattering-on-the-windshield routine.”
    “I didn’t mean to. I tripped. Luke and his blowup play pal came home and almost caught me climbing outmy window.” I whipped another panicked glance behind us. “In fact, you need to step on it. They could come around the curve at any moment and our dinner plans will be screwed.”
    “Oh no!” Meryl, usually a careful driver, got caught up in the excitement or the urgency or something. She made like a Spy Kid on crack, spinning her wheels and chucking