Read Brutal Precious (Lovely Vicious #3) for Free Online Page B

okay. It’s okay to stop worrying, now.”
    “I can’t,” I say. “If I stop, something bad will happen. If I stop I won’t see it coming, I won’t pay attention, and something will happen to you –”
    Mom’s grip tightens. “You’ve been so strong for me, for so long. Thank you.”
    I feel a familiar prickle in my eye and promptly deny it exit. Mom holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down as she strokes my cheek.
    “And now, it’s time for you to be strong for yourself. Not me. Not anyone. No one else but you.”
    I laugh, but it’s watery. “I’m not – I’m not so good at that.”
    She smiles, eyes like gray mirrors full of love. “Then it’s time to learn.”   
    In the very back of my closet, I find the pink blouse Kelly sent me. But it's more than that, now. It's the pink blouse Jack said I was - I was - I can't even bring myself to say it, and how lame is that, that I can't even say a word? Mouths are meant for saying words and I have one, and I know words, but this one is hard. This one means something so it's hard.
    In this pink blouse, someone called me beautiful for the first time. Someone I respected. Respect. Someone I loved.
    Love.
    Love?
    I shake my head and jam the blouse into the farthest reaches of my suitcase. You never know when you'll need a new curtain. Or a toilet rag.
    Mom helps me load stuff in the car. I’ve got my trusty blue suitcase and my beat-up backpack from high school. High school. Hi, school. Bye, school. I shiver a little as I realize I'm not in it anymore. I'm officially out. Half of me wants to drink nineteen redbulls and dance the motherfucking hokey pokey nonstop for twenty four hours, and the other part of me wants to crawl back into school, wrap it around me like a security blanket and never come back out. I settle for rolling on the lawn and moaning with dread like a grubby caterpillar refusing to get out of his cocoon.
    Kayla pulls into our driveway just as Mom loads the last bag. I jump up from the lawn and rush over. She’s right on time for our dinner date. Our last, and final, farewell dinner date. She gets out of the car in a blindingly beautiful white dress and sandals, her dark hair combed out to chocolate sheet-like perfection. She greets my mom with the graciousness of seven French queens, and drags me into her car with the strength of seven Viking warriors. When we’re on the road, she huffs.
    “Is the stuff in the trunk really all you’re bringing? Romani gypsies travel with more stuff than you!”
    “Ah,” I raise a sage finger. “But Romani gypsies don’t have an entire suitcase pocket devoted to Haribo gummy bears.”
    Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're so nuts."  
    "I prefer gummies to nuts."
    "Oh do you?" Kayla arches her brow in that terribly cheesy double entendre way and I suppress the urge to pluck it off her face. Her face is a work of art, cheesy eyebrow or no. I don't ruin art. Except when I do. And then I get yelled at.
    "Anyway," I say. "This is the last time we'll see each other until Christmas Break, so we better go to a gay bar or something equally entertaining yet memorable."
    Kayla grins, and merges onto the highway. "I know just the place."
    I recognize the street before I do the restaurant. The Red Fern looms before us. The same place I arranged Jack and Kayla's first date. The one I stalked them at. But Kayla doesn't know that, of course. She picks a booth by the window and we settle in, her ordering ice tea and me a root beer.
    "If we were in Europe, we'd be able to order wine," Kayla sighs dreamily. "God, they have it so good there."
    I frown, remembering the ticket Jack left me. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
    "Oh yeah. Everybody loves the black plague."
    "That was centuries ago, Isis. No one has the black plague anymore."
    "The emos of the world beg to differ."
    Kayla rolls her eyes and orders spring rolls for us to split. I look around nervously at the decor. The same colorful birds of paradise linger in