I Wish by Elizabeth Langston Read Free Book Online Page A

laughed, we both jerked. Guess I wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten she was there.
    “Uncontroversial? Lame?” She smiled. “If your papers are anywhere near as good as this discussion has been, I’m already looking forward to them.” She shooed us away. “They’re due to me on the second of October. Don’t forget.”

    When I got home from school, our Ford Focus sat sparkling in the driveway. Grant reclined against the bumper, looking smug, which I would overlook since Car Repair Day meant I had transportation I trusted. “How’d your day go?” I asked.
    “I’ve been rather busy.”
    He showed no signs of annoyance. Cool. Maybe this wish had actually pleased him.
    I looked toward the windows of the house. There was no visible movement inside. “Did my mom see you?”
    “I really couldn’t say.”
    He pushed up from the bumper and stretched, a sight which probably gave heart palpitations to the nosy neighbor across the street.
    “Chief, you should warn your mother about me.”
    I hadn’t come up with a description she would buy. An Eagle Scout looking for a project? A criminal with community service to work off? Since I hadn’t settled on an explanation yet, avoidance of the issue seemed as good a coping strategy as any. “I’ll wait until she brings you up.”
    A noisy sigh. “Won’t I scare her?”
    “Everything scares my mother.” I circled the Ford. The tires were getting bald, which would have to remain a problem since I didn’t have the funds to replace them. But the rest of the car looked amazing. Waxed and buffed. Vacuumed and scrubbed. Duct tape discreetly placed at effective intervals to hold the vehicle together. I couldn’t stop smiling.
    “I think you should introduce us,” Grant said as he trailed me. “Just a thought.”
    “I’ll get around to it.” I popped the hood and whistled. Everything looked shiny and new, from the fresh green coolant in the overflow reservoir to the clean oil on the dipstick. He’d done a remarkable job. “This looks great. Thanks.”
    He nodded. “I’ve had practice. Auto repair is requested often.”
    “I bet.” I listened as the hood fell into place with a satisfying thunk . Our car hadn’t looked this good in years, and I was itching to take it out. I could pretend it was a Mustang. Same manufacturer. Yeah.
    “You should see a ten-percent improvement in your MPG.” He tossed the keys to me.
    I caught them. “Want to go for a ride?” I smiled hopefully, oddly anxious for him to come with me.
    “Where are we going?” He slid onto the passenger seat and buckled up.
    “To buy gas.”
    We drove around the town square (twice—because the car took the corners really well now) and through several quiet neighborhoods to the outskirts of town, passing a couple of convenience marts along the way. I could feel Grant’s curious gaze on me, but I didn’t explain. He’d find out soon enough.
    I pulled into a full-service gas station, the kind with repair bays and vending machines burping out glass bottles of soda. The station was owned by a friend of my father’s. Allyn Taylor was the closest thing I had to a godparent. It felt good coming here, ’cause he was always glad to see me.
    Mr. Taylor walked out with a huge smile of welcome. “Hi, darlin’,” he said in his sleepy drawl. Leaning down to peer in the car, he studied Grant for a few hard seconds, then returned his attention to me. “I don’t believe I’ve seen your friend around.”
    “This is Grant, and we’re not exactly friends.”
    Mr. Taylor frowned. “Is he one of your classmates?”
    “No, he doesn’t go to…” Flustered, I stopped, wondering how to keep this vague. “Grant’s working for me.”
    “Working?” Mr. Taylor narrowed his eyes at my BSB. “Is that so?”
    “Yes, sir,” Grant said.
    “Uh-huh. What kind of work?”
    “Home repair.” Grant’s voice was crisp and professional.
    “What kinds of repairs?”
    I needed to end the interrogation now.