Rush by Jonathan Friesen Read Free Book Online

window. Salome puffs out air, and strands of hair around her face jump.
    The window lowers slowly.
    â€œWhy’d you do that?” I ask. “You didn’t need to do that.”
    She looks up to me. “You tell me what I need to do.”
    â€œTo climb?” I reach in and squeeze her biceps. “I’d say you have that down. You should have seen Brooke fall on her butt.”
    She grabs my hand, pulls my arm in, and unloads on my shoulder.
    I groan and pull out the deadened limb and watch the window raise on a happier face.
    â€œWhat’s that about?” I rub my arm and lean over her hood. We face each other through the windshield. I can’t read her, and she’s not talking.
    â€œOkay, we’ll do this not-answering thing. How about this one? You going to Brooke’s party tonight?” I climb on top of the hood, stick my nose against the glass. “I bet it’ll be big.”
    Wet squirts douse my face, and wiper blades catch me on the lips. Salome revs the car, throws it in reverse. I flop onto pavement, touch my mouth, and jump to my feet. “What’s gotten into you?” I holler at the vanishing car.
    I sweep the hair off my face and feel my shoulders slump.
    Sal, it’s for your own good. It’s killing me, too.

CHAPTER 7
    I DON’T KNOW ANYONE WHO likes Brooke. She’s drop-dead beautiful—she is that. And she knows it—she’s that, too. That explains why she makes boys crazy and makes girls sick. But everyone, even Ellie, her “best friend,” spends a ton of time ripping her when she’s not around. Except on Friday nights. And especially when Julia, Brooke’s mom, is on a Vegas run. Then we all suck up, because parties at her house are insane.
    Friday at Brooke’s brings together the strangest assortment of kids. Sportos and goths and drama geeks and Immortal wannabes—kids who wouldn’t glance at each other outside the door of her gate drop it all and live and let live inside. There’s no explanation for it. It’s a Brooke house thing.
    I walk to Troy’s place after dinner. He waits on his porch.
    â€œYou set?” I ask.
    He jumps up. Strange seeing Troy again. Marriage and firefighting haven’t changed him one bit. Cheyenne is still a hermit and seems cool with his going out, which is great for me.
    I watch him approach and try to think of something not to like. No go. Troy smiles a lot and has no brain clouds. Life treats him good.
    But maybe not now. He slows, and his gaze drops.
    We walk past the mill. I stare at Dad’s castle, where Troy’s dad sweeps the floor.
    Troy bends over, picks up a stone, and fires it toward the wooden gate. It bounces off the word Hanking’s with a thunk . “My dad’s still there, cleaning up your dad’s mess.”
    I slow and replay his line. Very un-Troy. I speed up and say nothing.
    Troy continues, “Monday after you were expelled, my dad got called in and reamed.” He shoves me again. “Lectured on responsibility. Darn near fired. That should’ve been your lecture.”
    â€œListen to you! Who was the one who ran away from high school after one year because of his responsible behavior with Cheyenne? Did her dad want to kill you because of your responsibility?”
    I look up at Brooke’s, a block in the distance, then back at my red-faced friend. I blink hard.
    He glances over his shoulder. His voice softens. “I’m trying to do right by her, but—”
    I get in his face, try to catch his gaze. “What’s going on?”
    â€œIt’s been tough lately.” Troy eases down onto the curb. “Since we’ve been back, she’s even quieter. It’s like living in a morgue. Thought tonight might lighten the weight. At Brooke’s.” He leans back onto the grass. “But it’s different. It’s been too long, and walking to Brooke’s feels different