Born To Die by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online

Bianca, be smarter than this. If Gene Schultz had gotten into another accident or—”
    â€œHe didn’t, okay?” Bianca snapped.
    Pescoli pushed some of the magazines to one side and sat near the foot of her bed. “You can’t cut class.”
    â€œJer did it all the time.”
    â€œCase in point.” She shook her head. “His options now are limited. Don’t make that mistake.” Seeing that this was getting her nowhere, she said, “So, why did you come home?”
    Bianca sighed. “I was just tired.”
    â€œThat’s not an excuse to—”
    â€œAnd I felt weird. I don’t know. Like maybe I was getting the flu. Kara White and Shannon Anderssen both have it, and I think Monty Elvstead, and they’re all in my Spanish class. So I came home. Big deal.” She glared at her mother. “I couldn’t call you. You’re always working, and I wasn’t going to, like, sit in that outer room and have weird Mrs. Compton, the vice principal, look at me all day.”
    â€œIsn’t there a health room?”
    â€œThat’s worse. It’s . . . gross! I just wanted to come home. Geez. It’s not as if it’s against the law or anything.”
    â€œHave you taken your temp?”
    â€œNo. And I’m not going to!”
    â€œSo what is it? Stomachache? Cramps? Sore throat?”
    â€œAll of the above, okay!” She burrowed deeper into her duvet, and the rest of the magazines slid to the floor. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
    â€œNot for a few more years. You’re kinda my job.”
    â€œSeriously? That’s what I am? Geez, Mom, you’re so . . .” The rest of the diatribe was thankfully muffled as Bianca flung an edge of the blanket over her head. One slim arm snaked from beneath the covers; her hand patted the bed, but before her fingers connected with her phone, Pescoli grabbed the cell.
    â€œYou won’t need this,” she said, pocketing the cell as she reached down to pick up the slick tabloids that had scattered onto the worn shag carpet.
    The top magazine caught her attention with the headline SHELLY BONAVENTURE’S DEATH RULED SUICIDE . Beneath the bold letters was a picture of a pretty woman with a wide smile and eyes that glinted mischievously. Her skin was clear; her hair a tangled mass of auburn curls. As if she had the world by the damned tail.
    Instead, Shelly Bonaventure, an actress Pescoli now remembered as having been on that vampire series Bianca had been hooked on a few years back, had become another statistic, yet one more senseless death in Hollywood.
    Looked like things were bad all over.
    Tucking the magazine under her arm, she walked out of the room and left her daughter sulking under her covers.

CHAPTER 3
    J ocelyn Wallis felt like crap as she eyed the dark sky through her window. It wasn’t snowing . . . yet, but a storm had been predicted, and there were patches of ice and snow on the roads and parking lot of her apartment complex. The temperature was below freezing, and it was only expected to drop.
    If she didn’t take her run now, she decided, peering through the blinds, she might not get a chance in the next couple of days.
    And Thanksgiving was next week; she was certain to pig out at her aunt’s house, so she should exercise in anticipation of the feast.
    Besides, it wasn’t going to stay light for long; already the streetlamps outside the apartment building that she called home were starting to glow.
    As a schoolteacher, she didn’t have a lot of daylight in the dead of winter, so she was confined to the treadmill during the week and jogging outside on the weekend, when the weather allowed.
    Maybe she should forget it. She’d just felt so crummy the past few days. Not quite the flu, but her energy was low, and she found herself kind of zonking out.
    Finishing a cup of leftover coffee from her morning batch, she threw the last