Just J by Colin Frizzell Read Free Book Online

door, I duck to the side and lean against the outer wall, wanting to be out of sight, but not out of earshot.
    â€œShe can be quite a handful,” The Beast explains with fake sympathy.
    â€œI guess that would depend on what else you’re holding onto,” Aunt Guin replies. “It was good seeing you again, Gerald, and meeting you, Fanny. Billy, I am eternally charmed.”
    â€œWhat’s that mean?”
    â€œThat I think you’re cool and next time you’re coming with us.”
    â€œPromise?”
    â€œNever trust anyone who makes a promise. Life has too many curves to guarantee a destination. But I’ll do what I can and that’s quite a bit. You okay with that?”
    â€œYeah,” Billy replies, sounding confused.
    â€œI’ll see you on Labor Day.”
    â€œSee you then, Aunt Dibilybop,” Billy says.
    And before Dad or Fanny can say anything, Aunt Guin closes the door and walks past me.
    â€œWell, come on,” she says without looking at me. Her stride is strong and purposeful, and I have to jog to catch up and speed-walk to keep up. This goes on for a few blocks before I finally ask, “Where’s your car?”
    â€œWhat car?”
    â€œThe one we’re taking to your cabin?”
    â€œOh, it’s not a cabin, it’s a house, and it’s on a beach.”
    â€œI don’t care…it’s on a beach?”
    â€œWhite sand.”
    â€œI’m too pale and skinny for a beach.” I hate my body or lack of it.
    â€œTall and thin is in.”
    â€œOh yeah, all teenage guys want to be with someone who’s taller than they are.”
    â€œYou don’t strike me as the guy-chasing type.”
    â€œI’m not—at all.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œI’m not!”
    â€œAll right.”
    This is just infuriating. You say one thing—agghhh.
    â€œSo, where’s your car?”
    â€œWhat makes you think I have a car?”
    She’s joking. She has to be joking.
    â€œHow are we going to get to your house?”
    â€œHitch a ride,” she says.
    I stop. I think about the black veil camp. I think about spending my summer with an insane aunt. I think about my sore legs and about getting murdered by a psycho who drives around all day looking for hitchhikers. I think there must be another choice.
    â€œI’m not hitchhiking.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause we could get killed, raped, end up in the slave trade or get cut up into little pieces and sold as gourmet cat food.”
    â€œIt’s perfectly safe to hitch a ride as long as you know who’s picking you up. It’s a calculated risk that way, espe–cially if you’ve arranged a time for said pickup.” She looks at her watch and then up the road. “Right on time.”

Chapter Eleven
    I follow Aunt Guin’s gaze to a vw van turning onto the street we’re on. The van’s seen better days. It’s mostly silver but only because most of the paint is gone and the steel has been polished, except above the wheels where it’s flesh toned—I think it’s called body filler. The roof is cream colored, and I can only guess that’s what the rest of it used to be. The sun reflects in waves off the van’s side as it moves toward us like a steel caterpillar. Aunt Guin sticks her thumb out and the van pulls to a stop.
    The driver, who looks about the same age as Aunt Guin, has long white hair tied back in a ponytail. His hairline points to blue sunglasses sitting on a little white nose. He leans out his window and removes what turn out to be sunglass clips, revealing violet eyes behind clear lenses in round wire frames. I quickly look down at the ground so that he won’t catch me staring at him. I’ve never seen an albino before, and I don’t want to be an insensitive jerk and stare at him like he’s some kind of freak, because he’s not—he’s just dif–ferent