How Not to Spend Your Senior Year by Cameron Dokey Read Free Book Online Page B

it.
    â€œAnd please tell me it’s something better than having us move to Tacoma.”
    My father smiled then. “Actually he doesn’t think we need to go that far. Detective Mortensen’s theory is that the only way we’ll be safe is if the killer believes that he’s safe.”
    All of a sudden, I wished I were stupid. Because, if I were, then there might at least be some chance I was getting it wrong. That I’d misunderstood what my father was trying to tell me. My grade point average is 3.95. Unfortunately.
    â€œYou mean, roaches check in, but they don’t check out , and we’re the roaches, don’t you?”
    Incredibly, my father laughed. Then he pulled me back into his arms, his hug fierce. “I love you, Jo-Jo.”
    â€œI love you, too, Dad,” I said. “And, for the record, I forgive you about the having-no-choice thing. Not only that, I think you’re right.”
    â€œJust think of it as the exception that proves the rule,” my father said.
    We sat that way for a moment. Just the two of us together, the way it had been for almost as long as I could remember. “Do we have to go tonight?” I asked finally.
    â€œWe have to go tonight,” said my father.
    â€œAnd we have to leave everything behind. Whatever’s going to happen needs to look like an accident, doesn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s right. It does. I’m sorry, Jo-Jo.”
    I almost did start to cry, then. Because I knew we both knew what my father had just done. He’d answered the question I hadn’t wanted to ask right out loud. The one about what would happen to the picture of my mom. It seemed so unfair to have to leave it behind. As if we were losing her all over again when, in all honesty, once had been more than enough.
    â€œOkay,” I said. “Hand it over.”
    My dad reached to where my mom’s photograph rested on the couch beside him and placed it into my hands. I got up and put the photograph in its shiny gold frame back where it belonged. Filling in the empty spot above Old Mrs. Calloway’s mantel.
    I looked at it for just a moment, then turned to face my father. He was looking at Mom’s picture too. That same combination of expressions I’d seen earlier, sadness and determination, filling his face.
    â€œSo what’s the plan?” I asked.

Eight
    In the end, I did two things my father hadn’t planned on.
    I took the pink chenille bedspread, and I phoned Elaine. Not necessarily in that order.
    The second was pretty much a necessity, as far as I was concerned, though it did take a while to convince my father. I think he actually put his hands on his hips.
    â€œWhat part of absolute secrecy did you not understand, Jo?”
    â€œYou never said absolute secrecy ,” I shot right back. “You said it had to look like an accident. If I don’t call Elaine, it won’t. I told her I’d call or come over.”
    â€œCouldn’t you just forget?” my father asked. “People do that, you know.”
    It was at this point that I put my hands on my hips.
    â€œDad,” I said. “Will you just listen to yourself for a moment? I’m a teenager. I’m female. And you’re seriously suggesting I might forget to use the phone?”
    â€œIt’s just that Detective Mortensen . . . ” my father began.
    â€œDoes Detective Mortensen know how close Elaine and I have gotten?” I ruthlessly cut him off. “Does he know I spend practically every afternoon at her house? Does he know she’s already noticed your car is in the drive? She noticed it before I did, for crying out loud. I can’t just drive off into the sunset without calling. She’ll know something’s up.
    â€œI won’t tell her anything, I swear. Just let me make the call.”
    â€œAll right,” my father gave in abruptly. “I don’t like it, but we don’t have