Experiment in Terror 04 Lying Season by Karina Halle Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karina Halle
certificate. Fifty bucks at the designer shoe warehouse. I’m sure there’s one in Seattle. Go and get yourself a sexy pair of shoes when you’re there.”
I looked over the printout and it confirmed what she was saying.
“ Ada,” I began.
“ No,” she said, closing my hand over the gift certificate. “I have enough shoes.”
“ You’re just too good for discount shoes,” I said with a smile.
She smiled back. “You know me too well. Now go break Brock’s heart. You’ll need it for practice.”
And with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving me with the gift certificate in my hand, wondering when my sister had become 23 and myself 15. At least, that’s what it felt like.
~~
The date with Brock went better than expected. He picked me up (I wasn’t about to ride Putt-Putt in a dress, nevermind the helmet hair) in his Honda Civic and took me to a trendy bar in downtown Portland, with a smashing view of the Willamette River.
He was a perfect gentleman. He laughed at my jokes, paid for the food (despite my insistence), and he looked quite handsome in his grey dress shirt, a nice change from his jock outfit.
We talked about a lot of things, though I tried to keep the conversation focused on him. Only near the end did he start asking more and more about the show and ghosts. He was a believer, which was good. The last thing I wanted was to be with someone who just wanted to pick my beliefs apart. That would be akin to a Catholic going out with an atheist.
No, Brock was fine. And he was a good kisser, too, as I found out on my parents’ front stoop. He didn’t seem to want anything more and anything less. It felt good to taste someone else’s lips, to feel someone else’s feelings, especially ones so transparent.
But as I was saying goodbye to him, I had a heavy, sinking feeling in my heart.
For one, there was the fact that he liked country music. The minute he admitted his love for Rascal Flatts, I knew we would never be. And then there was the simple, sad, ugly truth that he wasn’t Dex.
I tried my hardest to ignore that feeling the entire date. I tried so hard. But at every awkward pause and every glance at the clock on the wall and every quick slurp of wine, all I could think about was that if this were Dex sitting across from me…everything would just be OK.
And that thought made me sad as hell. It’s like that first date you take in order to move on. Full of false promises and lies you tell yourself, the lies that you’ll find someone else, someone better. At some point, those lies become truths. But I needed that to happen sooner, rather than later.
So as I was saying good-bye to Brock, and my heart had no real interest in seeing him again, the logical side of my soul kicked in. I asked him if he wanted to go out again when I got back from Seattle, and he said yes. He even looked a bit surprised; maybe he was smarter than I thought and had been picking up on mixed signals from me. I knew I had been sending them.
I watched him get into his car and waved at him as he drove off. Even if I wasn’t all that excited about a second date, I knew it needed to happen. I needed to move on. I needed, more than anything, to prove Uncle Al wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
On Monday morning I strapped my over-stuffed duffel bag (Ada’s satiny dress included) onto the back of Putt-Putt and got ready to blow the popsicle stand that I called home.
Ada was already at school and my father was off teaching at the university, so it was just my mother and me, staring at each other uneasily in the crisp, foggy morning. Traces of overnight frost still clung stubbornly to our wide lawn, making our house look like a gingerbread one rising out of white icing.
“ Do you know where you’re going?” she asked, looking extra skinny under the heavy fur coat she was wearing, probably made out of Swedish wolverines or something.
“ Yes mom. I Google-mapped it,” I said, my breath coming out in a
I looked over the printout and it confirmed what she was saying.
“ Ada,” I began.
“ No,” she said, closing my hand over the gift certificate. “I have enough shoes.”
“ You’re just too good for discount shoes,” I said with a smile.
She smiled back. “You know me too well. Now go break Brock’s heart. You’ll need it for practice.”
And with that, she shut the door behind her, leaving me with the gift certificate in my hand, wondering when my sister had become 23 and myself 15. At least, that’s what it felt like.
~~
The date with Brock went better than expected. He picked me up (I wasn’t about to ride Putt-Putt in a dress, nevermind the helmet hair) in his Honda Civic and took me to a trendy bar in downtown Portland, with a smashing view of the Willamette River.
He was a perfect gentleman. He laughed at my jokes, paid for the food (despite my insistence), and he looked quite handsome in his grey dress shirt, a nice change from his jock outfit.
We talked about a lot of things, though I tried to keep the conversation focused on him. Only near the end did he start asking more and more about the show and ghosts. He was a believer, which was good. The last thing I wanted was to be with someone who just wanted to pick my beliefs apart. That would be akin to a Catholic going out with an atheist.
No, Brock was fine. And he was a good kisser, too, as I found out on my parents’ front stoop. He didn’t seem to want anything more and anything less. It felt good to taste someone else’s lips, to feel someone else’s feelings, especially ones so transparent.
But as I was saying goodbye to him, I had a heavy, sinking feeling in my heart.
For one, there was the fact that he liked country music. The minute he admitted his love for Rascal Flatts, I knew we would never be. And then there was the simple, sad, ugly truth that he wasn’t Dex.
I tried my hardest to ignore that feeling the entire date. I tried so hard. But at every awkward pause and every glance at the clock on the wall and every quick slurp of wine, all I could think about was that if this were Dex sitting across from me…everything would just be OK.
And that thought made me sad as hell. It’s like that first date you take in order to move on. Full of false promises and lies you tell yourself, the lies that you’ll find someone else, someone better. At some point, those lies become truths. But I needed that to happen sooner, rather than later.
So as I was saying good-bye to Brock, and my heart had no real interest in seeing him again, the logical side of my soul kicked in. I asked him if he wanted to go out again when I got back from Seattle, and he said yes. He even looked a bit surprised; maybe he was smarter than I thought and had been picking up on mixed signals from me. I knew I had been sending them.
I watched him get into his car and waved at him as he drove off. Even if I wasn’t all that excited about a second date, I knew it needed to happen. I needed to move on. I needed, more than anything, to prove Uncle Al wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE
On Monday morning I strapped my over-stuffed duffel bag (Ada’s satiny dress included) onto the back of Putt-Putt and got ready to blow the popsicle stand that I called home.
Ada was already at school and my father was off teaching at the university, so it was just my mother and me, staring at each other uneasily in the crisp, foggy morning. Traces of overnight frost still clung stubbornly to our wide lawn, making our house look like a gingerbread one rising out of white icing.
“ Do you know where you’re going?” she asked, looking extra skinny under the heavy fur coat she was wearing, probably made out of Swedish wolverines or something.
“ Yes mom. I Google-mapped it,” I said, my breath coming out in a
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