Tag Along by Tom Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

manage,” she says.
    â€œSuit yourself, but I do know what the kids look like, and I’m bored out of my skull.”
    She pauses and looks at me as if considering my offer.
    â€œOkay, why not?” she says. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”
    â€œTrust me,” I say. “This is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all night. I’m Roemi, by the way.”
    â€œCandace,” she says. “You coming?”
    I follow her as she runs back to the truck. My shoes make it a struggle to keep up.
    It’s safe to say that Paul York is the last person I’m expecting to see. From the look on his face, the feeling is mutual. I don’t exactly have a problem with Paul, but you can tell a lot about a person by the company he keeps, and Ryan Penner is some douchey company. I swear, someday I’m going to break out my slickest moves and kick that bastard’s ass.
    â€œMy pack’s missing,” says Candace. “Roemi here said he can help me find it. You guys know each other?”
    â€œYeah,” we say at the same time.
    â€œWhat’s up, Roemi?” he asks.
    â€œWhat’s up yourself? Shouldn’t you be at prom?” I ask him. “Where’s Lannie?”
    â€œLong story,” he says. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so I bite my tongue. Always difficult.
    â€œI don’t want to break up your little reunion,” says Candace, “but can we get a hustle on? I don’t want to be here when the cops show up again.”
    â€œExcuse me?” I say. “Cops?”
    She doesn’t answer me, so I look at Paul. He shrugs. “She won’t tell me,” he says.
    â€œOkay, hang on,” I say. “I’m not helping you with anything unless you fill us in. What’s the big secret? Is there a head in that backpack?”
    â€œNo,” she says, exasperated. “Nothing like that. It’s nothing, it’s just—it’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”
    We both stare at her. She lets out a long groan. “Okay, fine,” she says. “You’ll think it’s stupid, but whatever. I need that pack because it has all my graffiti stuff in it.”
    â€œGraffiti?” I repeat. “Really?”
    â€œYes,” she says. “I was bombing the back of that school and some cop showed up and almost caught me. I threw my pack into the playhouse and ran to the nearest store. That’s when I met Paul, and he told me he’d help out. I told you you’d think it’s stupid, but I don’t give a shit what you think.”
    â€œRelax, Rembrandt,” I tell her. “Nobody said anything was stupid. Do you think it’s stupid, Paul?”
    â€œNo,” he says. “I’m actually kind of relieved. I thought you were dealing or something.”
    â€œAs if,” says Candace.
    â€œIs it really such a big deal to the cops?” I ask. “Graffiti, I mean.”
    â€œYeah,” she says. “You can get in real trouble. Vandalism charges. Trespassing. Break and enter, if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
    I point across the street. “I’m pretty sure that’s the house the kids went behind.”
    We backtrack through a couple of yards and duck behind a hedge at the back of their lot. Sure enough, the kids are in the backyard, about twenty feet away from us. They’re playing some sort of game that seems to consist of the girl bossing Frankie around. The backpack is nowhere in sight. “That’s them,” I whisper.
    â€œAre you sure?” asks Candace.
    I nod just as the kids stop what they’re doing and turn abruptly toward the house. A screen door swings out, held open by the arm of an invisible adult. The girl seems to be having an argument with whoever is standing inside.
    â€œI’ll do it later!” she yells. She stops and listens to something, then throws her