totally vain. Even more vain than Lila’s brother’s girlfriend, Miffany, if you can believe it. Get this: Cassiopeia believed she and Andromeda were more beautiful than any of Poseidon’smany nymphs, and she taunted the God of the Seas until he just couldn’t deal. (What kind of dummy would be so shortsighted as to taunt the God of the Seas?) Infuriated, Poseidon punished Cassiopeia by tying her daughter to a rock. Naked. Yep, naked. And, he left poor, naked Andromeda there to be sacrificed to some dreadful sea monster.
Can you say harsh?
I know it’s a stretch, but I couldn’t help but think of Lila and how totally in for it she was with this last stunt. She’d taunted her dad with disobedience just like Cassiopeia had taunted the God of the Seas. I sure hoped Chief Moreno didn’t pull a Poseidon on her and tie her naked to the proverbial rock as punishment. Enough of that. Worry never made the future better, it just stole energy from the present.
Unfortunately, the
present
included me, a desolate mountain road, and a flat tire. Swell.
Just as I was getting ready to suck it up and deal with the dilemma, two headlights blazed through my back window into my rearview mirror and blinded me. For a split second, I felt relieved … but then I got scared. We all hear stories about creepy guys who victimizestranded motorists, and I was spooked to begin with. I quickly locked all my doors, slipped my car into drive, then sat there with my foot on the brake pedal but ready to move to the gas pedal just in case I needed to make a squealing getaway. If anyone scary approached the car, I was GONE, flat tire or not.
I kept my eyes glued on the side mirror, trying to ignore the OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR warning, which was hard. First, I saw a silhouette of a person getting out of the car and heading toward me. I didn’t move, don’t even think I drew a single breath. But I lucked out! When he finally got close enough for me to see his features, I recognized the guy approaching as a fellow student from school.
It was That Bosnian Guy. Isn’t that awful? I didn’t even know his name, because everyone at school referred to him as That Bosnian Guy. All we knew was, he and his family came here as refugees (a word with an undeserved negative connotation), and now he was attending WPHS.
I’ve never paid him much attention, but I was SO relieved to see him. At least I didn’t feel like I’d be axmurdered in my car. I put the car in park, engaged theemergency brake, then rolled down my window a crack.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled and ran one hand through his golden blond hair, from front to back. The motion made my throat dry, for some strange reason. “Do you need some help?”
I twisted my mouth to the side. “I have a flat tire.” I probably didn’t have to demonstrate my keen grasp of the obvious with that statement, what with my car dipping to one side and my rear tire completely devoid of air, but I felt all fluttery-nervous around him. The words had just come out in a blurt.
“I will change it for you if you like,” he said. He speaks perfect English, but he has this yummy accent that makes even a mundane statement sound exotic.
“I’d be really grateful if you’d help me with it.”
“No problem.” He shrugged out of his ski parka and laid it on the roof of my Volvo. “Unpop the trunk, please.”
I bit my lip to hold back the smile, then UNpopped the trunk as he asked. I have to say, he looked GREAT with that T-shirt stretched across his chest. He wasn’t a musclebound guy. More tall and lanky, with long, leanmuscles. But he looked fantastic in jeans and a T-shirt. “You go to WPHS, right?” I asked, just so he’d know I recognized him.
He nodded. “I am Ismet.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Meryl.”
“Meryl”—he said my name in that REALLY cute accent, and it made my tummy swirl in the most delicious way—“yes. I think I have seen you in the halls. Are you in
Can you say harsh?
I know it’s a stretch, but I couldn’t help but think of Lila and how totally in for it she was with this last stunt. She’d taunted her dad with disobedience just like Cassiopeia had taunted the God of the Seas. I sure hoped Chief Moreno didn’t pull a Poseidon on her and tie her naked to the proverbial rock as punishment. Enough of that. Worry never made the future better, it just stole energy from the present.
Unfortunately, the
present
included me, a desolate mountain road, and a flat tire. Swell.
Just as I was getting ready to suck it up and deal with the dilemma, two headlights blazed through my back window into my rearview mirror and blinded me. For a split second, I felt relieved … but then I got scared. We all hear stories about creepy guys who victimizestranded motorists, and I was spooked to begin with. I quickly locked all my doors, slipped my car into drive, then sat there with my foot on the brake pedal but ready to move to the gas pedal just in case I needed to make a squealing getaway. If anyone scary approached the car, I was GONE, flat tire or not.
I kept my eyes glued on the side mirror, trying to ignore the OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR warning, which was hard. First, I saw a silhouette of a person getting out of the car and heading toward me. I didn’t move, don’t even think I drew a single breath. But I lucked out! When he finally got close enough for me to see his features, I recognized the guy approaching as a fellow student from school.
It was That Bosnian Guy. Isn’t that awful? I didn’t even know his name, because everyone at school referred to him as That Bosnian Guy. All we knew was, he and his family came here as refugees (a word with an undeserved negative connotation), and now he was attending WPHS.
I’ve never paid him much attention, but I was SO relieved to see him. At least I didn’t feel like I’d be axmurdered in my car. I put the car in park, engaged theemergency brake, then rolled down my window a crack.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled and ran one hand through his golden blond hair, from front to back. The motion made my throat dry, for some strange reason. “Do you need some help?”
I twisted my mouth to the side. “I have a flat tire.” I probably didn’t have to demonstrate my keen grasp of the obvious with that statement, what with my car dipping to one side and my rear tire completely devoid of air, but I felt all fluttery-nervous around him. The words had just come out in a blurt.
“I will change it for you if you like,” he said. He speaks perfect English, but he has this yummy accent that makes even a mundane statement sound exotic.
“I’d be really grateful if you’d help me with it.”
“No problem.” He shrugged out of his ski parka and laid it on the roof of my Volvo. “Unpop the trunk, please.”
I bit my lip to hold back the smile, then UNpopped the trunk as he asked. I have to say, he looked GREAT with that T-shirt stretched across his chest. He wasn’t a musclebound guy. More tall and lanky, with long, leanmuscles. But he looked fantastic in jeans and a T-shirt. “You go to WPHS, right?” I asked, just so he’d know I recognized him.
He nodded. “I am Ismet.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Meryl.”
“Meryl”—he said my name in that REALLY cute accent, and it made my tummy swirl in the most delicious way—“yes. I think I have seen you in the halls. Are you in
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