Until We Meet Again by Renee Collins Read Free Book Online Page B

it. A small, neon-green football sitting
near the back hedge. Right by the path to the beach.
I exhale. Walking calmly to the path, I keep my thoughts
firmly in check. This is not giving in. I’m just grabbing Eddie’s
toy. I have no intention of…
As I bend to retrieve the toy, the smell of salt and sand
brushes past me on the wind. The soft pound of surf whispers
in the distance. My throat feels dry all of a sudden. Standing,
I tilt my head to peer down the narrow, overgrown corridor.
I can see blue. The ocean. The sand. And I’m pulled toward
the beach.
It’s beyond insane, but he’s sitting on the sand. Just sitting
there on the beach, reading a book.
In a single moment, a series of emotions fly through my
mind in rapid succession. First, a tangible thrill at the sight of
him. Then confusion at how he could possibly be here again.
Then shame, the desire to turn and run before he sees me and
can laugh in my face. Then rage. Pure, trembling rage.
I stomp out, and he whips around. His eyes go wide. He
springs to his feet.
“I don’t believe it,” he says, his face ashen.
Rage still has a hold on me.
“Seriously. Seriously? You’re really showing up here again?
You’re either a bigger jerk than I could have imagined, or you’re
secretly a bum and don’t have anywhere else to sleep at night.”
He shakes his head. “How did you…”
“Why are you here?” I demand. “To gloat? To mock me? Are
you secretly recording this all on your cell phone so that you
can make fun of me to all of your snobby friends?”
“Cassandra—”
“I want you to leave, Lawrence. I have nothing to say to you.”
He takes a step toward me. “Why are you acting like this?”
I laugh, incredulous. “Why? Hmm, gee, that’s a good question. I don’t know… Maybe because you stood me up.”
“What?”
“I waited for twenty minutes, which is, I’m sure, exactly what
you wanted. You probably would have preferred a half hour or
forty-five minutes for optimum humiliation, but hopefully the
twenty minutes will satisfy you.”
Lawrence stares at me, blinking, as if I’m speaking incomprehensible words. He takes a breath.
“Cassandra,” he begins slowly. “I waited for you for a solid
hour on that street.”
The sincerity, the anger, in his tone throws me for a moment.
“Don’t lie,” I say. “There wasn’t a living soul out there. It was
just me and the fireflies.”
Lawrence throws up his hands. “I’m telling you, I waited for
an hour. I would have rung you on the telephone, but I don’t
know where you live. I don’t even know your last name. I have
no idea how to contact you.”
I put my hands to my temples. “What are you talking about?
Of course you know where I live!” I jab my hand toward my
house. “Hello?”
Lawrence scoffs. “Is this some kind of joke? That house?”
“Umm, yes. That house right through those bushes. You
came to our party. You’ve been swimming on my beach. I’m
going to have a hard time believing that where I live somehow
slipped your mind.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My Uncle Ned’s house is
through those bushes, Cassandra.”
“Not this again!” My voice raises, bordering on shrill, but
I don’t care. “What are you talking about? I’ve never even
heard of this Ned guy. Look, I don’t care who lays claim to
this town, or who owned the land a thousand years ago, or
whatever. This is where I live. This is the house my stepdad is
renting, fair and square.”
“I’m trying very hard to figure out why you’re acting this way.”
“It’s not complicated. That’s my house.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” he asks with a frustrated
growl. “That house. This beach. It’s all Ned’s. How could you be
mistaken about that when the only way to get here is through
his front door?”
“You’re crazy.”
And then it dawns on me. What if he really is genuinely
crazy? Gorgeous but crazy. Maybe Ned is a manifestation of
acute