Wish You Were Dead Read Online Free PDF

mean, isn’t it kind of like your wish really came true?

chapter 5
    Tuesday 7:05 A.M .
    THE AIR WAS clear and chilly. Val’s and my breaths came out in plumes of white vapor. She was frisky this morning and I sensed that she wanted to canter, but I kept her at a trot because I wanted to think without worrying about where we were going. It was Tuesday, and Lucy was still gone.
    The trees were bare, but the ground still had splotches of orange, red, and yellow. As Val trotted down the wooded path, I heard the crunch and clatter of a deer crashing away through the underbrush. It was no use trying to imagine where Lucy was. The night before there’d been rumors and IMs speculating on an impulsive rendezvous with an old camp friend, a chance meeting with an L.A. talent agent, an impulsive fling with one of the guys from FCC who’d been at the party. All were possible. But then again, the impossible never became rumor, did it?
    I turned my thoughts to Tyler. Ever since grade school I’d made it a practice every six months to develop a crush on some mysterious boy with whom my path had crossed at a sports field or on vacation somewhere, or in the waiting room at my orthodontist. Usually these mystery crushes were brief and unfulfilled, as Inever had the nerve, or guile, to make contact. But with Tyler it was different. He was at school day after day, so there were opportunities aplenty. It was actually hard to come up with excuses for not trying to connect with him. Besides, I kept reminding myself, I was a senior and had never had a real, steady boyfriend. It was my goal to have one by the time I graduated.
    The alarm on my cell phone chimed. It was time to turn Val around and head back to the stable, and from there, to school.
    When playwrights, novelists, and songwriters wanted to pick a town for their characters to either dream of living in, or to hold up as an example of all that was too materialistic and trendy and chic, they often chose Soundview. Almost everybody who lived here was well-to-do, if not just plain rich. Many drove fancy European cars, had vacation homes at faraway beaches or ski areas, and took several long holidays a year. It was said that Soundviewers exuded an air of entitlement—they felt they deserved the best of everything.
    Back in the 1990s, a group of parents, worried that their kids might take “the entitled life” for granted, got together and urged the high school to institute a mandatory community-service requirement. Among the programs kids could choose from were Habitat for Humanity, Meals on Wheels, or Safe Rides. That fall Courtney had signed up for Safe Rides mostly because I had.
    “Can you believe Ms. Skelling is calling an emergency lunch meeting?” she asked irritably on the lunch line. Everyone in Safe Rides had gotten e-mails the night before from our faculty advisor. I’d actually been glad, since it would mean seeing Tyler.
    “Why can’t it wait?” Courtney went on. “We usually meet on Thursdays. She is such a pain. I wish I’d signed up for Meals on Wheels, except old people creep me out.”
    “I guess we’ll see pretty soon,” I said, wondering what was really bothering her. “So … still no news about Lucy.”
    Courtney slid her tray down the rail and said nothing. One of my faults, I’d been told, was that because I hated confrontations. I always went out of my way to be nice and undemanding. And that sometimes worked against me because some people thought they could step all over me. So I was trying to be more assertive.
    “I thought we told each other everything,” I said.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Courtney kept her eyes averted.
    “Lucy … and you and Adam.”
    “Why ask me?” my friend said.
    “Because yesterday morning Jen seemed to think there was something going on between you two, and because I saw the way you looked at Adam at lunch yesterday.”
    Courtney reached for a steaming bowl filled with the most