My Life Next Door Read Free Page A

really? The out part?”
    “Nah, of course not. Nan? She’s lucky she’s got Daniel, and that’s pretty fucking sad.”
    “Where is she?”
    “Around somewhere,” Tim offers helpfully. “I’m in my room. Have you ever wondered what purpose the hair on your toes serves?”
    Tim’s stoned. As usual. I close my eyes. “Can I speak to her now?”
    Tim says he’ll get her, but ten minutes later I’m still waiting. He probably forgot he’d even answered the phone.
    I hang up and lie on my bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling fan. Then I open my window and climb out.
    As usual, most of the lights are on at the Garretts’. Including the ones in the driveway, where Alice, some of her underdressed friends, and a few of the Garrett boys are playing basketball. There may be some boyfriends thrown in there too. It’s hard to tell, they’re all jumping around so much, music cranked loud on the iPod speakers perched on the front steps.
    I’m no good at basketball, but it looks like fun. I peer in the living room window and see Mr. and Mrs. Garrett. She’s leaning on the back of his chair, arms folded, looking down at him while he points out something in a magazine. The light in their bedroom, where the baby sleeps, is still on, even though it’s so late. I wonder if Patsy’s afraid of the dark.
    Then suddenly, I hear a voice, right near me. Right below me.
    “Hey.”
    Startled, I almost lose my balance. Then I feel a steadying hand on my ankle and hear a rustling sound, as someone, some guy, climbs up the trellis and onto the roof, my own secret place.
    “Hey,” he says again, sitting down next to me as though he knows me well. “Need rescuing?”

Chapter Three
    I stare at this boy. He’s obviously a Garrett, and not Joel, but which one? Up close, in the light spilling from my bedroom, he looks different from most of the Garretts—rangier, leaner, his wavy hair a lighter brown, already with those streaks of blond some brunettes get in the summer.
    “Why would I need rescuing? This is my house, my roof.”
    “I don’t know. It just hit me, seeing you there, that you might be Rapunzel. The princess in the tower thing. All that long blond hair and…well…”
    “And you’d be?” I know I’m going to laugh if he says “the prince.”
    Instead he answers “Jase Garrett,” reaching for my hand to shake it, as though we’re at a college interview rather than randomly sitting together on my roof at night.
    “Samantha Reed.” I settle my hand into his, automatically polite, despite the bizarre circumstances.
    “A very princess-y name,” he answers approvingly, turning his head to smile at me. He has very white teeth.
    “I’m no princess.”
    He gives me a considering look. “You say that emphatically. Is this something important I should know about you?”
    This whole conversation is surreal. The fact that Jase Garrett should know, or need to know, anything about me at all is illogical. But instead of telling him that, I find myself confiding, “Well, for example, a second ago I wanted to do bodily harm to someone I’d only just met.”
    Jase takes a long time to answer, as though weighing his thoughts and his words. “We-ell,” he responds finally. “I imagine a lot of princesses have felt that way…arranged marriages and all that. Who could know who you’d get stuck with? But…is this person you want to injure me? ’Cause I can take a hint. You can ask me to leave your roof rather than break my kneecaps.”
    He stretches out his legs, folding his arms behind his head, oh-so-comfortable in what is oh-so-not his territory. Despite this, I find myself telling him all about Clay Tucker. Maybe it’s because Tracy’s not home and Mom’s acting like a stranger. Maybe it’s because Tim is a waste and Nan is MIA. Maybe it’s something about Jase himself, the way he sits there calmly, waiting to hear the story, as though the hang-ups of some random girl are of interest to him. At any rate, I