Read Perfect Glass (A Young Adult Novel (sequel to Glass Girl)) for Free Online Page B

never see you. Sometimes I wonder if you’ve flown off to Nicaragua.”
    “I wish.”
    “It’s like you dropped out of real life. Are you in a cult?”
    “Why would I want to hang out with you when you say things like that?”
    She was right, though. The hermit thing was starting to get old. “What do you want to do?” I tried to sound excited but Tennyson’s eyes rolled. Her pursuit of total cynicism would be admirable if it were a more noble quality.
    “I’m not telling. Be at my house at seven.” Her phone rang and she answered with, “Hey, baby.”
    I gave her a small wave and backed out of the scene so she could chat with Dylan. I really liked him. He’d been one of the only people I’d spent time with since Henry left because he was teaching me how to take care of Trouble, my horse crush that lived at Henry’s stable.
    On my way to Jo’s house, I tried to prepare for multiple scenarios. Would she be someone else today? A sweet grandmother type? Would there be an ambulance in the drive? Or a police car? Turning down her street, I saw her on the porch and my heart went arrhythmic.
    Conflict and I are not close friends, obviously, and despite my best intentions, my foot hammered the Jeep’s gas pedal, hurtling me past her house at an insane speed. I lowered myself in the driver’s seat so she wouldn’t see me. Jo dropped the blanket she’d had around her shoulders and watched me pass, mouth open.
    At that point, all I could do was smile and wave. I think that might have been strike three for me.
    In the rearview, I saw Jo walking down her drive. She stared after me. I couldn’t tell if I saw hope on her face or anger. Whatever it was, it looked delicate, firming my resolve to not screw this up again tomorrow.
    ***
    At seven, when I parked next to Tennyson’s house, she was standing inside the front window talking to her mom, Martha. My hands felt clammy and for a few minutes, I stayed in the Jeep, the heater blasting. I watched the house, dreading the jarring social interaction I’d find inside.
    Out of nowhere, a shiny, old black car with a big engine sped down the street, passed me, squealed to a stop and turned around. I recognized Quinn just as he stopped behind my car and shut down the rumbling engine. He smiled crookedly when he saw me watching him in the mirror, then unfolded himself from the muscle car and walked to my window.
    “Kavanagh.”
    “O’Neill.” I stepped out of the Jeep, careful not to bang him with the door. “What are you doing here?”
    “Same thing as you, I guess. Car tag with Tennyson.”
    I blinked and stared at him. “Car what?”
    He made a sound that fell somewhere between a laugh and a snort. “She told me to be here at seven for car tag. You, too?”
    “Not so much. Explain.”
    “She emailed me a weird video about it.” He shrugged. “Apparently someone drives a car that’s ‘it’ and tries to visually tag the other car that’s playing. There’s a home base and if you make it there without being seen, you win.” He grabbed his head with both hands, frustrated. “She told me this was what you guys did here. But, judging by the look on your face, I’m a fool.”
    “Yeah. I mean,
no
. You’re not a fool. But I’ve never heard of it. Sounds dangerous.”
    “She promised no laws are broken. Whoever’s ‘it’ doesn’t actually touch your car—just texts the address to verify the visual.” He tugged the collar of his jacket up higher on his neck.
    “Why would we spend time doing this?” My toes twisted in my Eskimo boots as I hopped from foot to foot trying to stay warm.
    Quinn cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s see. Why would we do this? Because we’re here and there’s nothing else to do. Because my mom will make me fold laundry if I go home. Because I’m sick of my family right now. You’d have to come up with your own reasons.”
    He watched Tennyson’s house over my shoulder. “You’ve got two seconds to back out,” he murmured without