Love Over Matter Read Free

that.”
    What my sister means is that Clive is
skittish; I’m the only human allowed to touch him . . .
until now. “He likes you,” I say, the notion so shocking I’m having
trouble processing it.
    A giddy expression comes over the
man’s face, and suddenly he looks more like a Chihuahua than a
Doberman. Clive inches up his arm and comes to rest on the round of
his shoulder. “Arrrgghh!” the man squeals, his lips curled into a
fiendish smile, an eye pinched shut as if he’s channeling a pirate.
He takes a couple of lurching steps, one foot clomping along
stiffly behind him as if attached to a wooden leg.
    “ Not bad,” Ian remarks on
the performance.
    “ So, uh, it’s getting
late,” Haley points out unnecessarily.
    I line up shoulder to shoulder with
the man, encouraging Clive to make the leap back to me. As soon as
he does, I stuff him into his cage and secure George’s hoodie
around it once again.
    “ You never answered me,”
the man says, the shotgun back in his hands, his hollow gaze pinned
on Ian’s forehead.
    Opal’s voice is small.
“Huh?”
    “ What exactly are you kids
doin’?”
    Kids? Do we look like we rode our
tricycles here? “Listen,” I say, toying with the idea of spilling
the beans, “we don’t want any trouble. We’re just trying to find
something that belongs to my friend’s great-uncle.” I tip my head
in Ian’s direction. “His dad needs it real bad.”
    The stranger lifts an
eyebrow. “Needs what real bad?”
    “ A liver,” I say. “He’s got
a disease. If he doesn’t get a new one soon, he’s gonna
die.”
    “ Sorry,” he says, “I ain’t
followin’.”
    Fine. I guess it’s come down to this.
“There’s something buried here,” I clarify. “Money. Coins. My
friend’s dad needs them to pay for the operation.”
    The man beams a gummy, gap-toothed
smile. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
     
     

chapter 2
    We didn’t find the coins, even though
Crazy Shotgun Guy (he never did tell us his name) spent forty
minutes working up a sweat with a bona fide shovel, leaving a
hopscotch of disturbed earth in his wake.
    “ Sorry,” I tell Ian as we
part ways in the still-dark street, half a block from my house.
“Maybe we can think of something else.” I scrunch my face into a
contemplative scowl. “A bake sale? Or a car wash? Oh, oh!” I
squeak, the perfect idea hitting me. “We could do a charity dinner.
Remember the one we had last year for the Angelos, when their house
burned down?”
    By “we” I mean my parents, mostly,
since they’re the proud owners of The Moondancer, Milbridge’s top
American eatery, pre-prom destination, and all-around good-time
hangout.
    Haley scuffs down the sidewalk, her
legs wobbly, Clive’s cage bumping along the sloped lawn beside
her.
    Ian gives a hopeless shrug. “I dunno.
It’s up to you.”
    I lean in and deliver a shoulder
squeeze. “Done,” I say. “How about next Sunday?” I notice Haley
hobbling into the end of our driveway and holler, “Wait
up!”
    She shimmies to a stop and sets Clive
in the grass.
    “ Thanks, Cass,” Ian
whispers, his voice threatening to crack. “You’re the
best.”
    I brush my fingers over his hand and
start jogging for Haley. Behind us in the street, the Love Machine
turns over with a whine, rumbles to life and vanishes in the
night.
    By the time I clomp up
beside my sister, I wish I could disappear too. Because no sooner
do I dip a toe in our driveway than a light pops on inside the
house. The kitchen light, to be exact, signifying our father’s
bleary-eyed trek to the coffee machine. We’re five minutes too late, I
think. Five lousy minutes. And now we’re going to be caught.
    “ I’ve got an idea,” I tell
Haley, whose eyes are so sleep deprived they’re puffed to
slits.
    She simply groans.
    I lock my arm around hers, snatch
Clive’s cage and hustle us toward the garage, where we slink in
through the back door.
    “ What’re you doing?” Haley
mumbles, her