Read Warped (Maurissa Guibord) for Free Online Page B

bell over the front door rang constantly with the traffic. But this was spring, otherwise known as mud season, and it wasn't so busy. Dead calm, she thought, would be the nautical expression.
    Tessa pulled the door, and the bell overhead gave a halfhearted jangle as if to say, "Okay. One customer. Big whoop."
    "Dad," Tessa called. The wooden stool behind the front counter stood empty. He was nowhere to be seen. Typical. He was way too trusting. Anyone could have walked off with half the inventory. Tessa looked around with a despairing shake of her head.
    "That you, Tessa?" Her father appeared above her, leaning over the railing from the loft section of the store, Maine History and Lore. He held a tattered, oversized volume in one hand and his glasses in the other. "How was school?"
    "Fabulous," said Tessa, in automatic reply. She waited to see if details were needed. No. Her father's eyes were already back on his book.
    How would he react, she wondered, if she broke away from their routine exchange and talked about something real? Hey, Dad. Hunter wants to have sex with me and I'm not sure how I feel. About college--I don't want to major in business, or even go to the University of Southern Maine in the fall, for that matter. And oh yeah, I can feel a zit the size of a hamster coming out on my nose .
    "That's good, honey," her father mumbled. He was returning to the mesmerizing world of ... Tessa craned her neck and peered to read the big letters on the spine ... Town Records--Livermore Falls . Really, was there anything her father didn't find fascinating?
    Tessa sighed. She hung her backpack on a hook by the door, shrugged out of her denim jacket and rounded the corner of the counter, promptly slamming her leg into the large box tucked behind it.
    "The last box from the auction is behind the counter," her father called down.
    "Yeah. Got it," answered Tessa, rubbing her shin.
    The bell chimed again as the door opened and Alicia Highsmith strode into the store.
    Alicia Highsmith was a petite woman, but she carried herself like an army general. A very stylish, professional general, Tessa thought, wearing black woolen slacks, a pearl-gray sweater set and slingback pumps. Tessa became suddenly aware of her own appearance. Her hair was barely contained in a sloppy ponytail and she had on faded jeans, a Bowdoin College sweatshirt (the operative word being sweat ) and worn-out Avias.
    Alicia gave a smile and a brisk wave. "Hello, Tessa. Your father in?"
    "Hi, Alicia." Self-conscious, Tessa felt herself straighten from her slouch as she returned a polite smile. "Dad!" she yelled to the loft.
    Her father hustled down the creaky stairs, ignoring the fact that a heavy man should not hustle, anywhere. He looked practically giddy. "Alicia! I didn't expect you this early." He took Alicia by the shoulders and they exchanged a brief kiss as Tessa found something intriguing to stare at under the counter. Dust bunny to the rescue.
    Girlfriend , thought Tessa, glancing up when their greeting smooch was done. It was not a word you thought of in the same sentence as my father. My father's girlfriend . No. It just didn't work.
    It was little consolation, but Alicia Highsmith didn't seem the type of person who would appreciate the title either. For one thing, she was middle-aged, almost fifty, maybe. And the professional overachiever type, Tessa thought. She was CEO of a medical technology company in Portland that made prosthetics. She was attractive, with auburn hair cut into a sleek bob and big brown eyes that were currently fastened on her father's face. Girlfriend . Tessa sighed. It was too weird.
    "Busy today?" Alicia asked.
    "So far, you mean?" Tessa's father put his glasses back on and looked around. His chubby face looked hopeful, as if he expected a stampede of voracious book lovers to suddenly appear from behind the stacks. "Well. Not too," he admitted.
    Alicia smiled. "You know, Jackson ..."
    "I know, I know." He raised a hand with a