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says.
    Dad remains silent, sitting on the couch.
    “Dad? Really? What if I fall? How am I supposed to carry those paint buckets?”
    He takes a deep breath before rubbing his chin. He obviously isn’t comfortable with this proposal. There’s no way he helped come up with this. “Well,” he sighs. “You’ll just have to be careful and creative. They aren’t as heavy as they look.”
    “Why couldn’t you have just gotten me a job at the public library?” I start to cry. I can’t believe this. Not only is my summer ruined with a job, it just happens to be a super dangerous and physically impossible one. I stand up to leave. They don’t try to stop me.
    “Mom, Dad. What if I get hurt?” I picture a ladder being swept away under my feet and falling three stories to my death.
    “You’re a smart girl, Lucy, you’ll be fine,” Mom replies.
    “Crawling around on roofs? Hanging off the sides of houses? Lifting huge tubs of paint?” I squeak as my voice cracks.
    Mom’s face softens a bit. “You’ll be fine,” she repeats.
    “Can I leave now?”
    “Yes,” says Dad, still sitting on the couch with his hand held to his cheek. He looks worried. At least one of my parents doesn’t thrive off of being evil.
    I turn around to walk up the stairs. Dad calls after me, “One of the workers will pick you up Monday morning at seven.”
    I don’t respond. I walk quietly up the stairs only to slam my door so hard it shakes our house. Mom’s voice filters up through my vent. “She’ll be fine, Dan. I promise.”
    I scream into my pillow. She is clueless.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE

     
     
    I drag myself out of bed at twenty to seven. My legs ache from jerking me awake all night long. Stupid dream ladders.
    Grabbing my best sports bra and an outfit that I welcome to be destroyed, Marissa’s advice echoes in my mind, “What if you meet a guy? Or what if you’re painting the home of a modeling agent?”
     I doubt either of those things will happen but I throw some mascara and eyeliner on anyway. At least I can look decent when strapped to a gurney.
    I hate walking into the unknown. It sucks. All I know is that this job will be dangerous and hot. I grab a granola bar from under my bed, hoping it will help calm me down. A motor sputters into the driveway. I run down the stairs to head off my new coworker from meeting Mom. That would be horrifying.
    But Mom’s already waiting for me at the door. I pray she won’t come outside with me. She hands me a water and lunch with a smug expression on her face. I take the water bottle but refuse the lunch. She’s not winning everything. Our exchange is silent. About time.
    A battered white pickup truck idles like a snoring troll in our driveway. Metal ladders stick out of the truck bed and a small sign hangs loosely from chains over the side of the bed, “Purposeful Painting Inc.” The sign swings in the breeze, banging loudly against the truck. I'm pretty sure that is illegal. The business doesn’t seem legit at all.
    A young guy sits in the front of the truck, sipping from a coffee cup, wearing a painter’s hat and a pair of sunglasses. He has a strong jaw and stubble. I look at his arm, bent up toward his face on the window ledge. He is tan and muscular. A goofy smile spreads across my face. Maybe the summer won’t be a complete waste after all. I climb into the passenger seat, thankful I put on mascara.
    “Good morning, Lucinda,” the driver says in a mocking tone.
    I stop breathing.
    No way. He takes off his sunglasses. Two piercing green eyes stare back at me. I don’t even try to hide my groan.
    Justin.
    He laughs. “What?”
    I roll my eyes before hitting my head against the seat. To any other girl in school, this would be Heaven. To me, it’s a humiliating nightmare.
    “Awesome party the other night, huh?” he prods.
    I shrug. There’s no way I'm giving him info to use against me. I pull out my granola bar, taking a bite so it’s impossible to