The Collector by Victoria Scott Read Free Book Online

I know it’s cheesy, but I still want them.” Charlie starts jumping up and down, and my body bounces with her movements. “And a softer bed! One I can get better height with.” She jumps higher and higher, her words stilted by her movements. “I believe. Jumping. On beds. Is good. For. The soul.”
    Watching her makes me laugh, even though I’m frustrated that she’s killing my panty-dropping moves. She reaches her hand down and says, “Come on.”
    “Come on what?” I ask.
    “Jump with me.”
    “False. Not happening.”
    Charlie grabs my arm and pulls until I’m sure it’s going to rip out of its socket. For a tiny thing, she’s pretty strong. “Fine. Whatever.” I stand up on her bed. “This is stupid.”
    “Oh, really?” Charlie jumps up and down real slow at first, then faster and higher. “ Is it stupid?”
    “Very.” I try jumping a little. My mother would never have let me jump on my handmade-in-Tuscany bed. As I start to get some height, I find the experience to be pure awesomeness. Will I ever admit it? Nope. But Charlie probably doesn’t need an admission since I’m grinning like an idiot.
    She grabs my hands, and we jump around in a circle, laughing like hyenas. I’m about to fall off the edge when Charlie’s grandma walks into the room. “What in heaven’s name are you two doing?” Her words are stern, but her smile says she’s happy I’m here and that Charlie has a new friend. “I see some wild animals got into the kitchen and didn’t clean up.”
    Charlie drops down onto the bed, then bounces off the side. “Sorry, Grandma. I’ll take care of it.”
    “No, no.” Grams waves her long red nails toward us. “I wouldn’t want to disturb your circus act. You guys hang out. I’ll make dinner. Just…door open okay, Charlie?”
    Charlie’s face flushes, but she nods.
    After her grandma leaves, I say to Charlie. “I should probably go.” There’s no way I can pull a Don Juan now, and I’d rather not be roped into staying for dinner. I’ve had enough Charlie for one day, even if it wasn’t the worst day I’ve ever had.
    She says she’ll walk me to the door, but I tell her I can see my way out. As I’m halfway down the stairs, she sticks her head out of her room. “Hey,” she says. “What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
    I press my lips together and shake my head.
    “If you want to come by around eight, I’ll show you something awesome.” I nod, but my brain is screaming, 8:00 a.m. ! What?!
    I’m at the bottom of the stairs when Charlie adds, “Wear tennis shoes.”
    I pull my mouth up to one side and point down at my red sneakers as if to say, Would I ever take these puppies off?
    She laughs. “You okay walking home? I could drive you.”
    Charlie knows how to drive? “Nah. I live close by, remember?”
    She waves like a pageant queen and sidesteps into her bedroom.
    I laugh to myself before moving to open the front door, then remember to mind my manners. I back up a few feet and stick my head into the kitchen. Grams is standing at the sink tossing back her plastic water bottle of rum. My eyes fall to the countertop near her right hand. A dozen brown prescription bottles lay open. Goose bumps rise on my arms, neck, legs—and everywhere else on my body.
    Sick. People. Freak. Me. Out.
    I’m dead. This shouldn’t bother me, but my mind is already supplying terrible diseases she’s carrying. Things like the Ebola virus. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m fairly certain you’re not supposed to party with booze and pills in the same sitting. I think back to when I first met Charlie. She asked if I was from the pharmacy. Does she know Grams is hopped up on enough meds to bring down a rhinoceros?
    I try to make it out unheard, but Grams spins around and spots me. Her lips curl into a wide smile. Then her eyes snap to the pill bottles. The smile falls from her face, crashes to the floor.
    “High blood pressure,” she says.
    I don’t believe her for a