judge their compatibility. I suspect Alyce’s body will let you know which guy she prefers. But you don’t have to go through with this. I told you I think it’s a bad idea. In my experience digging up dirt on politicians, love is never the answer but a mistake that leads to their downfall.”
“That’s lust, not love,” I argued.
“Is there a difference?”
“That’s the kind of comment I’d expect from someone who’d rather date strangers he meets online.”
“It’s only happened twice … well, three times if you count that one that lied about her age.”
“You bragged about hooking up with an older woman,” I remembered with a chuckle. “Until you found out she was older than your mother.”
“A lesson learned and not to be repeated. I’ve sworn off romance until after college. I have too much to accomplish, anyway—like today I’m going to a protest. But before I go, I’ll try to set up dates for you.”
“Thanks … I think.”
He gave me a deep look. “Sure you want to go out with these guys?”
I didn’t want to—but this was for Alyce. And I owed her.
So I took the printout from Dustin’s hand, studied the photos, then handed the paper back to Dustin. “Okay. Set up the dates.”
Before I left Dustin’s house, he Googled Liberty and Pioneer, discovering that they were (as I’d suspected) names of historical cemeteries all within an hour’s drive. But how did lavish Green Briar fit on the list? Alyce went to a lot of trouble for an old file. It just didn’t add up.
Sighing, I looked up as Dustin’s printer shut off.
“Here,” Dustin said, holding out several printouts. “Easy directions to keep even you from getting lost. On second thought, I should go with you.”
“And miss out on the chance for arrest?” I teased. “Go kick butt at your protest. Don’t worry, I won’t get lost.”
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
“Until I get a SOS call,” he teased. “I highlighted your route in yellow. Give me a call later to let me know how things go. By then I should have you set up for your first date. Which guy would you rather go out with first? Zachary or Kyle?”
“Neither.”
“Should I remind you this was your idea?”
I stuck my tongue out at him and snatched the print-outs from his hand. As the door thumped shut behind me, I wondered what would be a bigger waste of time:
1. Going out with guys Alyce would hate.
2. Going to cemeteries without knowing why.
This whole Temp Life thing would work better if Alyce’s body came with easy-to-follow directions. Instead it felt like I was sinking deeper into “crazy.” I envied Grammy for having such a simple assignment. No school, no obligations, just kicking back and having fun at my house.
Hmmm … what exactly was she doing?
Instead of starting up the car, I reached over for Monkey Bag and dug inside for Alyce’s cell. Punching in my own number was so weird. The phone rang and rang and I was about ready to hang up when someone answered.
But it wasn’t Grammy.
My mother!
“Just a sec,” Mom said, in a rush as if she’d been interrupted (she was probably chasing Melonee, who always resisted having her diaper changed). “Amber!” she shouted.
Startled, I jerked back and smacked my elbow on the door handle, crying a sick-cat sound-combo of “Mom!” and “Ow!” My eyes swam with tears but not because of my throbbing elbow. Mom had called me “Amber.” Could I abandon all pretense and return home where I belonged?
“Amber!” Mom repeated, sounding far away, like she’d dropped the phone. “What’s wrong with you lately? Didn’t you hear me calling? Here, it’s Alyce.”
My soaring hopes crashed to earth like dead stars.
Mom hadn’t been talking to me—and I missed her so much. It stung, worse than after the triplets were born and I wanted to stay with Mom in the hospital but was told to go home because the babies needed Mom more than I did. I needed her then and
“That’s lust, not love,” I argued.
“Is there a difference?”
“That’s the kind of comment I’d expect from someone who’d rather date strangers he meets online.”
“It’s only happened twice … well, three times if you count that one that lied about her age.”
“You bragged about hooking up with an older woman,” I remembered with a chuckle. “Until you found out she was older than your mother.”
“A lesson learned and not to be repeated. I’ve sworn off romance until after college. I have too much to accomplish, anyway—like today I’m going to a protest. But before I go, I’ll try to set up dates for you.”
“Thanks … I think.”
He gave me a deep look. “Sure you want to go out with these guys?”
I didn’t want to—but this was for Alyce. And I owed her.
So I took the printout from Dustin’s hand, studied the photos, then handed the paper back to Dustin. “Okay. Set up the dates.”
Before I left Dustin’s house, he Googled Liberty and Pioneer, discovering that they were (as I’d suspected) names of historical cemeteries all within an hour’s drive. But how did lavish Green Briar fit on the list? Alyce went to a lot of trouble for an old file. It just didn’t add up.
Sighing, I looked up as Dustin’s printer shut off.
“Here,” Dustin said, holding out several printouts. “Easy directions to keep even you from getting lost. On second thought, I should go with you.”
“And miss out on the chance for arrest?” I teased. “Go kick butt at your protest. Don’t worry, I won’t get lost.”
“You always say that.”
“I always mean it.”
“Until I get a SOS call,” he teased. “I highlighted your route in yellow. Give me a call later to let me know how things go. By then I should have you set up for your first date. Which guy would you rather go out with first? Zachary or Kyle?”
“Neither.”
“Should I remind you this was your idea?”
I stuck my tongue out at him and snatched the print-outs from his hand. As the door thumped shut behind me, I wondered what would be a bigger waste of time:
1. Going out with guys Alyce would hate.
2. Going to cemeteries without knowing why.
This whole Temp Life thing would work better if Alyce’s body came with easy-to-follow directions. Instead it felt like I was sinking deeper into “crazy.” I envied Grammy for having such a simple assignment. No school, no obligations, just kicking back and having fun at my house.
Hmmm … what exactly was she doing?
Instead of starting up the car, I reached over for Monkey Bag and dug inside for Alyce’s cell. Punching in my own number was so weird. The phone rang and rang and I was about ready to hang up when someone answered.
But it wasn’t Grammy.
My mother!
“Just a sec,” Mom said, in a rush as if she’d been interrupted (she was probably chasing Melonee, who always resisted having her diaper changed). “Amber!” she shouted.
Startled, I jerked back and smacked my elbow on the door handle, crying a sick-cat sound-combo of “Mom!” and “Ow!” My eyes swam with tears but not because of my throbbing elbow. Mom had called me “Amber.” Could I abandon all pretense and return home where I belonged?
“Amber!” Mom repeated, sounding far away, like she’d dropped the phone. “What’s wrong with you lately? Didn’t you hear me calling? Here, it’s Alyce.”
My soaring hopes crashed to earth like dead stars.
Mom hadn’t been talking to me—and I missed her so much. It stung, worse than after the triplets were born and I wanted to stay with Mom in the hospital but was told to go home because the babies needed Mom more than I did. I needed her then and
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