Annabeth Neverending by Leyla Kader Dahm Read Free Book Online Page B

she’d follow in their footsteps. But because she’s not particularly studious, she’s decided to rebel by avoiding AP classes, going out for pompons, and developing an off - color sense of humor. She smiles evilly. “Then you might want to work on your stamina,” she replies.
    “Annabeth wasn’t a fan, but what do you guys think of my Mark Walberg ensemble? Nice, right?”
    “Love it. But why aren’t you showing off your abs?” Kerry pushes.
    “No, not Marky Mark. I’m Mark L. Walberg… Antiques Roadshow .”
    “You wore a PBS costume to my party?” Kerry asks limply.
    “It’s the original pay - per - view, but you know, voluntary,” says Gabriel, which causes an unexpected laugh from Kerry.
    “Uh - huh. I’m sorry, but you guys will have to excuse me. I need to return to my hosting duties,” says Kerry, looking a little conflicted at having to leave us.
    While she goes to mingle, Bernadette and Hector go to make out. This means I’m alone with Gabriel. Which makes my insides flutter yet again.
    “Let’s dance,” he says.
    He grabs my hand and pulls me through wafting fake fog and laser lights as we weave our way between writhing dancers on Kerry’s makeshift dance floor. Gabriel and I start grooving. Because the music is so loud, we have to lean in close to each other to talk.
    We’re soon lost in the song while we playfully bump and grind. Bernadette and Hector come to join us. We trade partners and dance lightheartedly. It’s time to let go, to have fun, to be a normal teenager. Even though this, the most unusual costume I’ve ever worn, is that of…myself.
    Hector and I get down, and I back up — and slam into another party guest with all my weight, which seems to exert quite a bit of force. I turn around to apologize.
    I stop breathing.
    The earth stops spinning.
    Time stops moving.
    He looks just like I remember him. He’s even got on a replica of the slave uniform he wore in ancient Egypt.
    It’s Sethe!

6
    N o. Not now…not when things with Gabriel are going so well.
    Expletives swirl in my thoughts, foul four - letter words I’m tempted to shout. But I’m not one to resort to full - on swearing. The worst I can bring myself to mutter under my breath is “Dammit!”
    My gut clenches, and a sour taste coats my tongue. Please, God, don’t let me hurl. When you meet the person you suspect is your soulmate, it’s supposed to be a meet - cute, not a meet - puke.
    But it’s turning out to be neither. I manage to keep my churning stomach acid in check, and meeting Sethe at this moment is not the least bit cute. In fact, it has me enraged. Intellectually, I ache to run away, but my feet have turned to lead. While my brain knows better, my body…Well, my body is an idiot.
    Is he really here? Could I be seeing things? This too could be nothing more than a side effect from my ankh handling…
    I do a double take. And a triple take. But no matter how hard I try to blink him away, my heavily made - up eyes are not deceiving me. And neither is my mind. Here he is. In front of me. Flesh and bone. Muscle and blood. Breath is escaping his lips and entering our atmosphere. He’s the real thing. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to.
    And to make matters worse, he’s drinking a Moxie !
    Well, was drinking a Moxie. His unmistakable orange - and - blue - labeled bottle is still dripping with the brown nectar. He spilled the precious stuff all over his costume when I rammed into him, and he’s waving his large hands in the air to dry them off.
    No, the Moxie is not a sign or a symbol that we’re meant to be together.
    It’s just an innocent bystander.
    Sethe scrutinizes me. With those eyes. The gold - flecked hazel orbs that I could pick out of a crowd at a New England Patriots’ game. His presence infiltrates me, entering my bloodstream with a jolt more powerful than a shot of adrenaline. And now the twitching begins. Surely my lip will never stop now.
    “I…I’m…sorry,” I