Thrown by Tabi Wollstonecraft Read Free Book Online Page A

didn’treallycaremuchforthesocialstatusthingbutIhatedbeingonthe bottomrung.Soifapopularfootballplayeroraguywhowasconsidered desirableaskedmeout,Ialwayssaidyes.Buteventhedesirableguys didn’tseemdesirabletome.DellonceaskedmeifIdidn’tlikeguysat allbutIknewIwasstraightbecauseallmydreamsandfantasiesabout loveandsexinvolvedmen.Neverrealmen,notevenpopstarsoractors, butfacelessmenwhosefeaturesIcouldneverquiteimagineclearly.
    Andnowforthefirsttime,I’mexperiencingwhatallthegirlswere talkingaboutandIunderstandwhattheymeantwhentheydescribeda boyas‘dreamy’ora‘hunk’.IfeelthosethingsaboutStoker.IwishI didn’tbecauseit’smakingmeactweird.
    ‘Amy?’hesays.
    Irealizehe’sparkedonthedrivewayandcuttheengineandopened hisdooralready.AndI’vebeensittingheredaydreaming.Great.
    ‘Sorry.’Iopenmydoorandclimbout.‘I’lljustgetthekeys.’Ileave himonthedrivewayandIenterthehousetogetthegarageandcarkeys fromtherackbythedoor.Getaholdofyourself,Amy,anddon’tphase out.Trytokeepaholdofrealityorhereallyisgoingtothinkyou’rea mentalcaseorsomething.
    Igobackoutandhandhimthekeys.‘’Youwanttogetthecaroutof thereandI’lltakeitfromthere?’
    Henodsandunlocksthegaragethenliftsthedoor.IwaitbytheLand RoverwhilehereversestheVolvooutofthegarageandturnsitaround soit’sfacingtheroad.
    ‘She’sallyours,’hesays,slidingfromthedriver’sseatacrosstothe passengerseat.
    Igetintothedriver’sseatandadjusttherearviewandsidemirrors andslidetheseatforwardsoIcanreachthepedals.Stokerwatchesme withsomeamusementonhisface.
    ‘What?’
    ‘It’sjustthatyoulooksoserious.’
    ‘Wellthis is serious.Iwanttogetitright.’
    ‘Youwill,don’tworry.Youcandrivecan’tyou?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Soallyouneedtolearnisthislittleextrathing…thegears.You’ll pickitupinnotime.’HesoundsmoreconfidentinmethanIamin myself.That’skindofnice.
    ‘OK.DoweneedtheGPStofindtheway?’
    ‘No,Iknowtheway.Now,thecarisinneutralatthemoment.Put yourhandonthegearshiftandfeelhowitmovesfreely.’
    Iplacemyhandonthegearstickandwobbleitaround.‘OK,it moves.’
    ‘Nowyou’regoingtoputherintofirst.Seethediagramonthetopof thestick?Ittellsyouwherethegearsaresofirstisslightlytotheleftand forward.Tochangegear,youneedtopresstheclutchin.That’sthepedal ontheleft.Andanytimethecarisingearbutyouaren’tpressingthe accelerator…thegas…youneedtoputtheclutchinorthecarwillstall.’
    Ibitemylipandnod.‘OK.’
    ‘Soputherinfirst.’
    ‘Doyoualwaysrefertocarsas‘her’?’
    ‘Yesandyou’replayingfortimesolet’sgo.Firstgear.’
    Idepresstheclutchandpushthegearshiftintofirstposition.
    ‘Nowbecarefulwhenyoulettheclutchcomebackupbecause…’
    Ireleasetheclutchtoofastandthecarjerksforwardtwicebefore stalling.Aredlightonthedashshinesatmeaccusingly.
    ‘OK,’Stokersays,‘let’sputourseatbeltsonbeforewegoany further.’
    WedothatandInoticeagrinonhisface.‘Youbetternotbelaughing atme.’
    ‘I’mnotlaughingatyou.’
    ‘Sowhyareyougrinning?’
    ‘Yougetflusteredeasily.It’scute.’
    Cute?IstarttheVolvoagainandslamitintofirstgear,liftingthe clutchuntilIfeelitbiteandthecarstartstomoveforwardtowardthe road.
    ‘Nowyou’vegotit,’hesays.
    Cute?Igivethecarmoregasandwegopasttheendofthedriveway andontotheroad.Ihavenoideawherewe’regoingsoItakearight, awayfromtown.Thecarispickingupspeedbutit’sstillinfirstgearand theengineisscreaming.
    ‘Youneedtochangetosecondnow,’Stokeradvises.
    Cute?Istompontheclutchandpullthegearshiftbackhardinto second.Thegearscrunchandthestickshakesinmyhand.Ilettheclutch uptoofastandthecarkangaroos,throwingusaboutuntilitstallsagainin themiddleoftheroad.
    ‘Let’strythatagain,’hesayscalmly.
    ‘Cute?Really?’Istartthecarforathirdtimeandpushthestickinto firstgear,willingmyselftodoitrightthistime.Iletuptheclutchandwe moveforwardslowly.Therevsincreaseandtheenginestartstowhine.
    ‘Timeforsecond,’Stokersays,‘butthistimepullthestickback gently.’HeputshishandinmineandsuddenlyIcan’tconcentrateon anythingexceptthewarmtouchandcomfortingfeelingofhavinghis