Over It (The Kiss Off #2) Read Free Page A

behind her and collapsed onto my bed, shoving a pillow over my face. So Hamish was coming. Wasn't sure I knew how to explain that to Mads. Van would be alright, they'd probably get along okay, what with having eleventy–billion brain cells between them. But Mads...
    I jumped up and grabbed my cell to text Ty again. There were some sucky conditions but the point was, I was going!

CHAPTER THREE
    Telling Van about the royalty check and the best–weekend–of–our–lives plan didn’t go as well as it had with Mads.
    She met me at the park to walk Poo and take in the evening summer air, but her enthusiasm was somewhat waning.
    "It sounds brilliant, Poppy," Van said, walking casually beside me. She needed super–long strides to keep up with me as Poo hauled me along the sidewalk, straining against his leash, refusing to heel.
    Van continued. "It really does..."
    I didn't like the sound of that. "But?"
    "But Nan and I are going to New York for that whole week."
    "Really?” I said. “Since when?"
    "She's going to Gore–a–thon," Vanya said. "Apparently the cast of Deadly Thirst 3 are going to be there this year so it’s a ‘must–go’."
    Vanya's grandmother was the biggest horror movie buff I knew. You'd never think of it from the look of her, with her silver bun, knit cardigans and scratchy–looking brown skirts, but she loved herself some scary movies. The bloodier the better.
    "And I'll go on some film set tours, the NBC tour, we're going to do some Broadway shows..."
    "You can't," I said, "you have to come to the fest with us. Poppy, Mads and Van’s Big Adventure."
    "Sorry."
    I frowned. "Can't you at least ask her?"
    "I could," Van said, "but I'm actually really looking forward to New York."
    "Well that sucks," I sighed. "For me, I mean. Doesn’t suck for you. You'll have fun."
    “Yeah. So will you, though.”
    We made our way onto the empty sports oval. I stopped walking and pressed down hard on Poo’s backside to make him sit. I unclipped his leash and Vanya hurled a tennis ball onto the field. Poo bolted after it.
    The hairy mutt thundered back to us and dropped the ball expectantly, coated in slime, at Van’s feet. I kicked it and we both ducked as spittle flew everywhere. He sprinted after it again.
    “I know I will, it just sucks.”
    “It’ll still be fun with Mads.”
    “Yeah, of course,” I said. “But Hamish? Ugh. He’s just so annoying . He never ever shuts up.”
    “When was the last time you saw him?” she asked.
    “Christmas before he went to college. So a year and a half ago?”
    “People can change,” Vanya said, “he might not be so bad anymore.”
    I smiled at her and patted her on the head. “Oh, Vanya,” I said. She gave me a long–suffering smile. “Always the optimist.”

    I called Hamish's house, and since it was summer and all, Aunt Isabelle told me with a heavy sigh, "Yeah he's here. He's loafing on the couch. In the middle of the day. Again. Hang on a sec, hon and I'll get him."
    So he was on the couch; I didn’t see what the big deal was. There was absolutely nothing wrong with chilling on the couch during the day. I shifted my weight and propped my feet up on the arm of my own living room couch as I waited for him to come to the phone.
    The first words out of his mouth when he came to the phone were, "What do you want?" Wow, okay. Not a great start.
    "Hamish?" I said, even though I knew it was him. The last time I’d seen him,  Dad and Uncle Antonio had been struggling to light the gas barbecue, and Hamish had been hovering behind them like this giant, pale string bean thing, spouting something about how not to leave the gas on too long before lighting it because the particles in the air would do something or other, and that was when Uncle Antonio got the lighter working and a flame shot straight at his face and, though he screamed like a teeny, tiny, screaming girl, he walked away with nothing worse than singed eyebrows, a bit of a tan, and an ‘I told you