Phobic by Cortney Pearson Read Free Book Online Page A

stairs, entryway. Or the secret passageway servants once used to lead them from outside into the kitchen. But there’s no way I’ll be able to keep everyone from snooping around. It’s not like I can rope off the unwanted places. What am I going to do, act like a tour guide?
And this is the cedar chest where my murderous mother kept her family heirlooms. Oh, this rug. Would you all like me to lift the door beneath it so you can see where a dead body once lay?
    Yeah. Not happening.
    Only I’m too late when Chance Bakersfield and a couple others stride past me, heading straight for the back porch.

“N o! Hey, guys, wait!” I scurry over, but not before Chance yelps. He jerks back as if shocked, then trips over the white wicker chair. Or I think he trips. I don’t remember the chair being that close to him a few moments before.
    “She’s such a loser,” he says, to the girl beside him as they go down the few steps to the grass. He’s busy fiddling with his shirt and smoothing down his stick-up hair. “What kind of person locks their doors like this when people are over?”
    If they only knew it wasn’t
me.
    Even though his question is for her, he asks it to my face. My throat is thicker than a tree stump, though I can’t help the relief that his reaction wasn’t anything more than a shock.
    I peek at the gray siding of my house, the darker purple paint lining the arched windows and triangular designs. Though it makes no sound, I’m sure the house isn’t too thrilled with them trying to barge in. I wait for the wooden boards to disassemble and start whacking people at random.
    Nothing else is going to happen
, I tell myself.
We’re just going to dance, to hang out, and then they’ll all go home. That’s it.
    “I’m serious, guys.” I turn to the rest of them and have to pause when I realize every eye is on me. “It’s really like, just a normal house,” I say, as Jordan steps forward. And for once I’m grateful he opens his mouth.
    “Look, whatever, right? Let’s get this party started!” he says, holding up the cases in each of his hands. A few people shrug, looking up at my Victorian with disappointed grunts. They saunter past, back to where their cars are parked. The kids who stay cheer and flock to Jordan.
    So what now? Passing out beer constitutes a party? I consider going up to get my iPod and speakers, but people have already scattered, finding their places.
    A few loiter on the short path covered in white rocks just off from the circle of trees that serves as a fence around my yard. They stare past the stone archways covering the pathway, to the flowers blossoming on either side. Roses, mostly, with the occasional daisy or lily.
    “This must be so much work for you guys,” Tabitha says, fingering the vines crawling along the arches. I should snub her, considering how evil she acted at lunch earlier. But I step forward to join her, eager for someone to talk to. Even if it is Tabitha.
    “Not really,” I say. “We never have to trim bushes or weed or anything.” She narrows her eyes, and I realize how suspicious that sounds. “Because we have a gardener,” I add, not wanting to admit that the house actually takes care of the yard as well.
    It doesn’t seem to bother her that I don’t elaborate. Her attention is on Kody Gold and his girlfriend, who’ve already started making out beneath the gazebo.
    Someone cranks their iPod to full blast, and several others begin bobbing their heads, waving their bottles as they sway back and forth in time with the upbeat rhythms. Right. Music would be nice. If I’d actually had time to plan anything. Then again, at this point it probably wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.
    I stand there, feeling exposed, but no one sends any random questions to my phone; no one makes any snide comments. They all seem to be enjoying themselves. In fact, I might as well walk around with a clipboard and take notes for all the attention they pay me.
    I climb onto