Roadside Assistance by Amy Clipston Read Free Book Online Page B

see you at dinner,” he said.
    “Okay.” I headed back into my room and moved to the window. I spotted the green Jeep pulling up to the garage next door. Zander hopped from the driver’s seat and loped over to a keypad mounted by the side garage door. After punching numbers on the pad, the garage door lifted up. He then crossed back to the Jeep and hoisted his backpack on his shoulder before disappearing into the garage.
    I bit my lower lap and fought the urge to run over to the garage to see if he’d torn down the engine yet. I knew the whole idea was crazy. Most guys didn’t understand why I’d rather work on cars than get my nails done or go shopping, and I didn’t expect Zander to understand me either. Besides, he mightnot want a girl’s help. My abilities could threaten his masculinity or something.
    I flopped onto the bed and concentrated on my homework until I heard Logan bellow my name from the bottom of the stairs.
    I helped my aunt serve the meal of lasagna, breadsticks, and salad, and then took my seat next to Logan at the table. Logan once again uttered the prayer and then we dug in. I picked at my salad, while Logan gave one-word answers to his mother’s cross-examination about his day.
    The back door opened and slammed with a bang, and Whitney appeared carrying her backpack with her cell phone pressed to her ear. Perhaps one of those handsfree ear jobs would be more convenient for her.
    “Okay,” she said. “Love ya. Bye!” She dropped her bag on the floor and placed her phone on the counter. “Hey, everyone!” She bounced over to the table and sat beside me. “Oh, lasagna! Yum.” She lowered her head and closed her eyes, apparently praying. She then began to fill her plate.
    “How was your day, dear?” Darlene asked.
    “Great!” Whitney’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement. “Oh my gosh, Mom. We had such a good meeting. The girls have great ideas for Spirit Week.”
    “How were your classes?” Chuck asked, in between bites of lasagna.
    “Fabulous.” Whitney flipped her ponytail back behind her shoulder and then cut up her lasagna with the side of her fork.
    “Do you have any homework?” Darlene asked.
    Whitney nodded. “Yeah, I do.” She forked her lasagna again and moaned. “This is awesome, Mom.”
    “Thank you.” Darlene looked at me. “So, are you girls in any of the same classes?”
    “Homeroom, gym, and lunch,” I said, swiping a breadstick. Whitney glanced at me. “That reminds me. I didn’t see you at lunch.”
    “I was sitting in the back with a friend.” I bit into the breadstick.
    “Who?” Whitney asked.
    “Chelsea.”
    “Chelsea Morris?”
    “Yeah,” I said with a nod, hoping that was Chelsea’s last name. I couldn’t admit I had no idea what my new friend’s last name was.
    “She’s nice.”
    “Yes, she is.”
    “You know you can sit with me, right?” Whitney’s eyes studied mine. “My friends will like you.”
    I nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
    “So aren’t you in any other classes together?” Darlene asked.
    “No,” Whitney said, cutting up another bite with her fork.
    “I’m surprised,” Darlene said. “I was hoping you’d be in more classes together, so you could study together.”
    “I’m in the ‘average’ classes, not the honor and AP classes like Whitney.” My comment was laced with more resentment than I’d planned.
    My father frowned, and I studied my plate. The conversation turned to Whitney’s busy schedule of practices and meetings, and I finished my dinner while avoiding my father’s stare.
    After helping with the dishes, I retreated to my room and sat on the window seat. I split my time between homework and staring out the window at Zander, who was busy under the hood of the Dodge next door. Even though I realized I was obsessing, I wondered if he had any homework tonight. Did hebother to complete his assignments or was he one of those wonder kids who got straight As and a perfect SAT score without even cracking