Shifting by Bethany Wiggins Read Free Book Online Page A

till the garden.” A slow smile spread over his face. I couldn’t help but smile back.
    â€œSo, what do you want?” I asked with a laugh.
    â€œA rematch. Fifty-yard dash.”
    I stopped laughing. “If I win, are you going to turn the entire school against me as payback? Oh, wait. You already did that.”
    He leaned closer and I stared into his dark eyes. “I might have been mad that you beat me, but I didn’t turn the school against you. Danni Williams did. You’re a faster runner and she can’t stand it,” he said. He moved a strand of hair from my cheek and tucked it behind my ear. I prayed he couldn’t see the pulse pounding out of control beneath my neck.
    He grinned and leaned back in his chair. “So?” he asked quietly.
    â€œIf I beat you again, will you tell the school?”
    â€œIf you win, I’ll do better than that. I’ll take you to prom to prove to the entire student body that there are no hard feelings between us.”
    â€œAnd if you win?”
    â€œI’ll have my dignity back.”
    I rolled my eyes. Like I could take away his dignity. He was overflowing with dignity.
    â€œSo?” he asked.
    â€œI can’t go to prom. I don’t own a dress.”
    He leaned toward me. “Wait, did I hear you right? We’re talking prom dresses. So you’ll race me?”
    I studied his midnight eyes. He knew as well as I did that I’d beat him. The real question was: if I owned a dress, would I go with him? Yeah—in a heartbeat. Any girl in her right mind would. He was smart, athletic, and totally hot. “Sure,” I said before I realized the word was out of my mouth. I couldn’t help it. He was the first decent guy that had ever asked me out, even if the date depended on me beating him in a race.
    Bridger opened his mouth to speak, but the doorbell chimed.
    Floorboards groaned overhead.
    â€œI’ll get it, Mrs. Carpenter,” I called toward the stairs. She’d gone to her quilting circle the night before and been out until midnight, so had gone upstairs with the excuse of an afternoon nap. And besides, it was for me. Ollie was right on time.
    I glanced at Bridger as I stood. “You should probably go.”
    Bridger downed his water and followed me to the front door.
    Ollie stood on the threshold, my file tucked under his arm. Without a word, he turned and spat a glob of black tobacco into the bushes.
    â€œHello, Magdalene Mae.” He pushed past me and into the house. “Why, hello, Bridger!” A chill raced up my spine. “What in the wide world are you doing here of all places?”
    â€œHanging out with Maggie Mae,” Bridger replied as if he thought it was pretty obvious.
    â€œOh. I see,” Ollie said. “Tell me, how’s your dad doing?”
    â€œHe’s fine. He and my mom and sister moved to France in January,” Bridger replied.
    â€œThey left you here alone?”
    â€œThey moved the day I turned eighteen,” Bridger said with a shrug. “But they’re probably coming home to see me graduate. What are you doing here?”
    I tried not to cringe as I waited for Ollie’s response.
    â€œI’ve come to visit with Ms. Mortensen, too,” Ollie explained, holding my file up. My shoulders slumped.
    â€œYou mean Maggie Mae? But I thought you were a social worker. That you dealt with foster chil …” Bridger’s voice trailed off as his eyes met mine. “Oh.”
    â€œMs. Mortensen’s been in the fostering program since she was five,” Ollie said.
    I wanted to punch Ollie. Wasn’t my life, contained in the file under his arm, supposed to be private?
    â€œOh,” Bridger said again, studying me as if we had just met. “I’ll see you later, Maggie Mae.” He shook Ollie’s hand before practically running from the house. Seeing Bridger’s hand clasped in the hand of my new social worker