Read Any Way You Slice It for Free Online

Rink Rats.” I close my eyes, contemplating the answer to her other question. “In fourth grade, when I started skating for real, I once asked my dad what it felt like to play hockey, and he practically hit the ceiling. He told me if I ever mentioned playing hockey again, he’d lock me in my room for life.”
    Lori is silent, contemplating. She tilts her head the other way. “That’s a tad extreme, even for your dad. You sure he was serious?”
    â€œYeah, I’m sure. He had a bad concussion in high school, so he thinks it’s dangerous. But I think I want to go watch the team.” I take a breath, knowing what I’m about to do could make the rest of the school year very lonely. “Can you drive me to the rink on Monday after school so we can watch practice? I’ll make up a story about needing to go to the library.” I can’t remember the last time I lied to my parents. I think it might have been about saving up my lunch money in the third grade to buy a Chia Pet.
    â€œI’m not lying to your parents for you.”
    â€œOh, you won’t have to.” I cross my fingers behind my back. “If I decide to play for real, I’ll totally tell them. But I just want to go check out practice first.”
    â€œRebel.” She smirks. “I’m totally low on gas money. Pay for gas, and I’ll put on a little hat and you can sit in the backseat on Monday afternoon.” She bows. “Consider me the chauffeur to your illicit deception.”
    I know Lori. She won’t be complicit in anything that crosses the line into behavior that might affect our college admissions. But watching a little hockey is fine with her.
    Her phone beeps. “Oh, good, it’s Caroline.” I lean over Lori’s shoulder to read it.
    Jake Gomes is on the verge. Tell Pen jury is still out.
    â€œWhat the hell does that mean?”
    Lori laughs. “Well, I guess he’s not on the ABSOLUTELY NOT list anymore.”
    â€œI’m still not planning on dating him.”
    â€œRight.”
    We spend the next two hours doing homework. When I get back from the kitchen with a snack, she’s stowed all her books and she’s busy on her phone again.
    â€œWhere’s your favorite vacation spot?” Lori says, squinting at the small screen as she settles on my bed. “Paris, Orlando, or Aruba?”
    I flick on the TV and flop down into my moon chair. Unfortunately, the puck I’d thrown there earlier makes my landing less than the soft squish it should have been. “Ow.” I curl into the chair and toss the puck in the air. “I don’t know. The only time I’ve been on vacation is to Hampton Beach with your family. Why?”
    â€œWe’re taking a quiz on your ideal career. You’re required to answer.” She scrolls through the options again. “Paris, Orlando, or Aruba?”
    A stupid quiz based on Lori’s online shopping habits is really going to be insightful.
    Not.
    But I play along. “As long as it’s not cooking pizza, I’m game. Paris, I guess.” The puck is bigger than my palm, but it has a nice weight as I toss it and catch it again.
    â€œYou guess? Where’s your sense of adventure?” she says, pouting at me.
    â€œYou only gave me three choices. Paris. Yes. Paris would be my first choice of those three.” I shake my head. “But.. … ”
    â€œNo buts. You have to be definitive, or it won’t work.” She swipes her finger across the screen. “Ok … what’s your favorite breakfast food?” She glances up to make sure I’m paying attention. “Your choices are oatmeal, a bagel with lox, or a croissant.”
    â€œThese are stupid questions for a career quiz.” I tuck my legs up under me and shift my weight to get comfortable, twirling the puck in my fingers. “What if I say scrambled eggs?”
    She shakes her head. “Not