The Secret Talent by Jo Whittemore Read Free Book Online Page B

eyebrow. “That was rude. Want to try again?”
    â€œSorry,” I said, unbuckling my seat belt. “I just don’t want to do this group project.”
    It was the lie I’d come up with to explain why I was up so early on a weekend, spending time with someone my parents barely knew.
    Mom cradled my cheek in one hand and kissed my forehead. “Don’t worry. You’ll only have to work with other people another”—she tilted her hand from side to side—“fifty years or so.”
    I smiled. “No way. In a couple years everything will be controlled by machines.”
    She patted my leg. “Dad and I really need to show you those Terminator movies. Have fun and call me when you’re ready to go.”
    I waved to her and slung my completelyempty backpack over one shoulder as I stepped onto Ryan’s snowy lawn. I immediately sank into powder all the way to the shins of my boots. Glancing at the houses on either side, both of which had only a few inches of snow, I had to wonder if Ryan had stockpiled the stuff just for me.
    When I was halfway to his front door Ryan opened it, clad in a T-shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops.
    â€œRight on time. I like that in an employee,” he said.
    â€œFirst of all, it’s thirty-four degrees out.” I pointed to the steam my breath was making. “You look like an idiot. Second, I’m not your employee. They get paid.” I rubbed my thumb against my fingertips.
    He blinked at me. “So the shovel is right there.” He pointed to one that was leaning against the porch railing next to a bucket of salt. “I find it’sbest to do the walkway first before you get too tired.”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I muttered, tossing my backpack onto the porch.
    I picked up the shovel and cleaned off the steps as I went down each one. Ryan followed right behind with a lawn chair under one arm and a thermos in the other.
    â€œAgain, it’s thirty—” I stopped myself, and gestured to him. “You know what? Freeze to death. That would be great for me.”
    Ryan unscrewed the lid of his thermos and poured himself some hot chocolate. “Nah. I want to enjoy this,” he said, but I could see goose bumps on every visible inch of skin.
    â€œShouldn’t you be sipping some slushy drink out of a coconut?” I asked as he settled back into his lawn chair.
    He snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s thirty-four degrees out.”
    I shook my head, popped in my earbuds, and put on some music. I managed to shovel about two feet of the walkway before something cold and hard smacked into the side of my face.
    â€œAh!” I dropped the shovel and wiped at my cheek. Little pieces of snow trickled down. I spun and glared at Ryan. “What was that for?”
    â€œI asked you a question and you didn’t hear me,” he said, wiping a hand on his board shorts. “And now my fingers are numb.”
    â€œServes you right!” I said. “What do you want?”
    â€œWhat are you listening to?” he asked.
    I stared at him. “Are you seriously trying to make small talk while you’re blackmailing me?”
    Ryan shrugged. “I’m bored.”
    â€œSo go inside and watch TV,” I said, picking up the shovel. “I’m not here to chitchat. I’m here to cross items off your stupid list.”
    Ryan opened his mouth to respond but thenpaused, tilting his head to one side, as if listening for something. His eyes widened, and he threw the contents of his cup on the snow. Then he recapped the thermos and scrambled out of his chair.
    â€œHand me the shovel,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” He didn’t even wait for me to comply before yanking it out of my hand. “What are you doing?” I asked.
    â€œJust shut up and sit in the lawn chair!” he said with such force that I was momentarily startled into sitting.
    Snow started flying left