Page 38 - My FlipBook

L IS A J. L A W R E N C E

doesn’t like the cold much,” he said, running the scraper
along each wiper blade.
Greta thought for a second he meant his dad—the
lumberjack—and then realized Nate had named his car
Rebus. Beside her, Ash pinned her with a stare. It was going
to be a long four hours.
Nate manually unlocked the passenger door and held it
open. Greta flipped the front seat forward and climbed into

the back. Ash started to fold his long body in beside her, his
neck bent at an unnatural angle. Greta hissed, “Get up front!
This isn’t a taxi!”
He mouthed back, You go up front then, gesticulating
between her and Nate.
“You’re…a boy…and in the same class.” Realizing how
lame that sounded, she added, “I’ll do the way back.” Greta ADVANCE READING COPY

hoped that Nate, still standing by the open door, hadn’t heard.
Ash pinched his lips tight and gave her a murderous look.
He unfolded his body and slid into the front seat instead.
Nate shut the door and moved toward the driver’s side.
“I hate you,” Ash whispered.
Greta smiled into her collar. This should be interesting.
Despite the heat blowing at maximum, the seat beneath
her radiated cold. A pine-tree air freshener dangled from the
rearview mirror. The interior—mostly red plush and duct

tape—was immaculately clean.
Nate backed the car out of the driveway and headed
toward a four-way stop. “Not gonna lie,” he said. “These tires
are pretty bald. I’ll show you.” He accelerated, then slammed

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