Deadly Little Secret Read Free Page A

the table that looks out onto the courtyard. She kept gazing out at it, like she wanted to be outside.
    What I’d give to be with her—to walk with her over fallen leaves, to hear the crunch beneath our feet, and then to kiss her, the cool autumn breeze whipping around us.
    In time I know it’ll happen. I’ll make it happen. Or else I’ll die trying.

7

    “Okay, so what did he say?” Kimmie asks. “I want every word.”
    We’re sitting in one of the booths at Brain Freeze, the ice-cream shop down the street from our school.
    “Oh, my God, wait ,” she says, just as soon as I open my mouth to speak. “Did you see John Kenneally?”
    I peer around at the other booths.
    “Not here ,” she squawks, dragging the word out for three full syllables. “In the hallway, while you were talking to that Ben guy. He was totally scoping the scene. It looked like he wanted to talk to you. He was so close to tapping you on the shoulder, but you turned the other way.”
    “I didn’t notice.”
    Kimmie sighs. “Leave it to you to miss a hottie like him. If you don’t go for him, I totally will.”
    O
    “He’s all yours,” I say, taking a bite of my mochalicious mud.
    “So what did he say?” she asks.
    “John?”
    “ No —that Ben guy.”
    “Not much. Just that it wasn’t him—that I have him confused with someone else.”
    “See, I told you,” she sings.
    “But he’s lying,” I continue. “I know it was him.”
    “Why would he lie about something like that?” Kimmie takes a sip of her peanut butter frappe.
    I shrug. “Maybe he’s one of those superprivate people; maybe that’s why he took off after he saved me in the first place.”
    “Doubtful,” she says. “I mean, think about it: if you were accused of murder, wouldn’t you welcome an opportunity where people could see you saving someone?”
    “Sounds pretty serious,” Wes says, sneaking up from behind me. Spoon and straw in hand, he pulls up a chair and takes the liberty of mooching off our desserts. “Word’s out that you were harassing Killer Boy after school today.”
    “Where did you hear that?” I ask, knocking his spoon away.
    “People.” He smirks.
    “What people?”
    Wes’s smirk grows into a full-blown smile, exposing the tiny chip in his front tooth. “Everybody’s talkin’ about it.”
    “You’re such a lame-o,” Kimmie says. “We’ve only been out of school for an hour.”
    “Doesn’t matter.” He readjusts his wire-rimmed glasses. “I have ears . . . and eyes.”
    “Stalking the girls’ softball team again?” Kimmie tsk-tsks. “You know how tacky that is, don’t you?”
    Wes shrugs, obviously caught.
    “My vote is that you forget about Touch Boy,” Kimmie says, pointing at me with her straw.
    “Unless of course you want to wind up being the next victim of the week,” Wes adds. “Better start wearing clean underwear. You never know when you might end up lying half naked somewhere.”
    “Good advice.” Kimmie nods.
    “I’m nobody’s victim,” I say.
    “You can victimize me.” He gives his spoon a good lick.
    “Whatever,” I say, choosing to ignore him. “Forgetting Ben is a whole lot easier said than done. I saw the scar.”
    “Wait, what scar?” Kimmie asks.
    I tell them about the scar I saw on Ben’s forearm earlier—how I recognized it from the day he saved me.
    “Do I smell a scandal coming on?” Wes asks, making his voice all gruff and deep.
    Kimmie sniffs in Wes’s direction. “That stench isn’t scandalous . . . it’s downright venomous.”
    Wes takes an extra-large sip of her frappe in retaliation.
    “Forget him, Camelia,” Kimmie says. “I mean, yes, he saved your life; it was very chivalrous of him. And, yes, he’s totally buff, which further complicates things, but closure is way overrated, in my opinion, anyway.”
    “Maybe you’re right.” I sigh, sinking back into my seat.
    “No ‘maybe’ about it. Preoccupy yourself with someone yummier,” she