Saving Phoebe Murrow: A Novel by Herta Feely Read Free Book Online Page A

Morgan, are you? Trust between mother and daughter was essential, and she so wanted to trust her. I do, she told herself. With a click she ended the call.
    Stowing her litany of concerns, she grabbed the tiny bottle, ready to be transported, ready for Thuy’s special form of magic, a pedicure followed by a manicure.

    The guys squeezed the girls between them, Jessie making sure to grab a seat beside Dylan. “What were you guys talking about?” she asked, sniffing as though something was up.
    Even now Phoebe noticed the guys telegraphing each other. Nick studied each girl in turn before saying, “Nothin’.”
    The volume at the table rose all at once. “Come on, that’s not fair!” Jessie said, insisting they tell. Phoebe could see Jessie had gotten it in her head they were about to ask them to the dance, but the guys merely spoke in cryptic three-, four-, and five-word sentences. “It’s nothing, honest,” “You don’t wanna know,” “Come on, change the subject.”
    Jessie stood up. “You guys are jerks, you know that?” She looked as if she were about to leave. Now that they were here, Phoebe was reluctant to go. Was she really serious? Emma stood up and took out her iPhone and aimed it at the group.
    â€œOkay, okay, keep your cool,” Sam said. “Put that thing away, Emma.” He scratched his close-cropped hair, a little like Will Smith’s, as if trying to figure out what to say. One more glance at his three friends and it was clear they weren’t in agreement, about something.
    â€œNick and I are gonna score some weed,” he blurted in a hushed but triumphant tone. Then glancing at Nick, who gave him a nod, he added, “They live just up the street.”
    The tumblers in Phoebe’s head suddenly clicked into place. Now she understood why they were meeting in Adams Morgan. Sam lived nearby, the dope was here, and after Nick and Sam “scored,” they’d probably want them to go to Sam’s to smoke. But what about Noah, this didn’t seem typical. Seated next to him made it hard for her to see his expression.
    Nick leaned over and whispered something into Emma’s ear.
    A faint smile curled the edges of her slender lips. “It’s like this, girlfriends,” Emma said, pausing to cast her calm gaze on Phoebe and Jessie, “do you want some?”
    Phoebe’s heart beat fast, like a rabbit’s she’d once held at Easter. Her first impulse was to glance around to make sure no one else at Five Guys had heard. Unlike Emma and Jessie, Phoebe’s illicit adventures had been limited to a few sips of beer, which she hadn’t liked. No weed, ever. Her parents were very clear on the subject. She watched Jessie to see what she would do, but she and Emma were silently communing across the table.
    Something vibrated in her pocket. She pulled out the phone; it was her mother. A riot of thoughts flashed through her head. Did she know she wasn’t in Georgetown? Could she hear their conversation? Of course not. But she recalled her mother once saying, “There’s no point in lying, I’ll just find out anyway. Mothers always do.”
    She shoved the phone back into her jacket just as Dylan asked, “You guys hungry?” She wondered if she’d missed something, because everyone acted as if there’d never been any mention of drugs. She watched Dylan brush his long surfer-blonde hair out of his eyes and tuck it behind his ear. “Let’s get some fries and Cokes, okay?” he said.
    A flurry of responses ensued, mostly on the order of who wanted what. Meantime, Noah reached for Phoebe’s hand beneath the table and said in a low voice, “I want you to know this wasn’t my idea, so it’s cool…you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
    But Phoebe wasn’t so sure that was true. “What about you? What do you want