Strays by Jennifer Caloyeras Read Free Book Online

uncomfortable call for me to make because I know how much Conor and Hunter love you, but in light of recent events, I’m going to have to cancel my babysitting request for this summer.”
    In the background, I could hear Conor calling my name before Mrs. Harrison hung up.
    My stomach cramped up. It was one thing to let myself down, but now I’d disappointed these two boys.
    I wondered how she had gotten wind of my situation and then remembered that the whole reason I had gotten the job in the first place was because my PE teacher, Coach Lutz, knew Mrs. Harrison because they lived on the same street. He must have called her as soon as word got out at school.
    My dream summer was turning into anything but.

four
    D ad thought he was punishing me by grounding me for an entire week. Little did he know the last thing I wanted to do was interact with anyone. I was happy to stay on the couch, consume mass quantities of the free juice that he brought home (beet-carrot-apple was my favorite), watch my nature shows, and listen to my music. My two current favorite shows were The Underwater World and Abe Lives with Apes . Living in the ocean, living in the jungle—I’d take either of those habitats over my own.
    About a week after the incident , I went back to the police station to collect my confiscated computer and journals. Dad had picked up my totaled bike and had given me his to borrow, but it was a guy’s bike, which meant that sitting on it for long periods of time became quite uncomfortable because the saddle was too narrow.
    â€œDid you find lots of incriminating evidence?” I asked the officer who handed my laptop back to me.
    â€œYou’ll find out soon enough,” she said, referring to my upcoming court date.
    I was appointed a lawyer (Nathaniel Spencer), and Dad gave me my cell phone back and let me leave the house only to meet with Mr. Spencer to discuss my case. Mr. Spencer said the best we could do was defend my actions and hope for the best. He said it all depended upon who the judge was the day of my trial and what kind of mood he or she was in.
    Great.
    The police must have been sorely disappointed by my hard drive. No bomb-making recipes, no plans to follow through on my threats. Just a lot of bookmarked nature websites and a collection of e-mails from Ashley wondering what in the world was going on, each subsequent e-mail decreasing in friendliness. In her first e-mail sent after my arrest, she sympathetically checked in about what she had heard at school. In the second, she mentioned she’d be out of town (San Francisco) and that I should call her when she got back. By the third e-mail she laid out everything that bugged her about me and wrote that maybe we should take the summer off as friends. I had managed to completely alienate my closest friend just by being this version of myself. How could I blame her for criticizing me?
    But I was still too hurt to respond, and I convinced myself that I didn’t need her anyway.
    The television would become my new best friend.
    But then, toward the end of the week, I tortured myself by going online and looking at photos of the girls in San Francisco. There was stupid Lydia Cordova posing with my friends on the Golden Gate Bridge, in front of Coit Tower, and in Golden Gate Park.
    I had been replaced.
    *
    Dad was standing in the kitchen hovering next to the coffee machine on the day of my trial. “So what are you doing with yourself today?” Dad acted like he had genuinely forgotten.
    â€œI have my trial this afternoon, remember? You’re supposed to be there.”
    Dad’s big promotion was coming up soon. I figured once he got it, things would calm down again. He’d be in his big new office. Making more money. I only had to deal with this distracted Dad for twenty-one more days.
    â€œYeah, kid.” His eyes darted back and forth, searching his porous memory for anything to trigger this promise he’d made