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(512) 816-2997:This is Bo. The owner of that pen. Look, I don’t have time for games. I need it back immediately. Meet me at 3PM in Sindra Park on the bench next to the dam. Bring the pen.
I frowned. Bossy.
Another text stacked on top of the first:
(512) 816-2997:It’s an emergency. Meet me there or I’ll find you and pry it from your hands.
I scrunched up my face in disgust, then took a generous bite of my delicious burrito. There was no way I was going to some park bench to meet up with this jerk—
My phone buzzed again.
(512) 816-2997: How’s that California tasting?
The burrito tipped out of my hand and landed on the floor with asplat.
(512) 816-2997:Five second rule. Better hurry, Grace.
(512) 816-2997:Bring the pen.
12
Bo
Ipaced near the bench, waiting for that preppy bitch.
If I closed my eyes, I could see her disapproving stare, her pursed lips, her crossed arms as she told me to fuck off yesterday.
Well, in gentler words. But the meaning was there.
I peered down at my gleaming watch, which dutifully told me I had one minute to wait. I was surprised exhaust wasn’t pouring out of my nose I was so fucking worked up.
My diary—no,journal—was tucked in my back pocket.
I had it all ready to go.
Once I got my hands on that evil pen again, I could fix Summer.
I could kill who she wasn’t and emphasize who she was. Because after what happened with her last night, I knew I couldn’t keep going on like this. She’d worsen and worsen, ruin my life—
The sound of footsteps padded on the pavement nearby.
I looked up and saw Miss Prim-And-Proper there, dressed in one of those cream-colored yoga girl tank tops and leggings with pastel-colored leaves and flowers flowing all over them. Her hair was tamed in an immaculate french braid.
I scowled. Everything about her was basic and bland. Hell, that outfitscreamedLive, Laugh, Love and I swear to fuck I could smell the scent of Pumpkin Spice Latte as she approached.
“Took you long enough,” I grumbled.
Her raised eyebrow was enough to scold me.
I hated it.
“I’m right on time.”
“Whatever. Did you bring the pen?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I’m not giving it to you for nothing.”
I swept my hand over my face. “What do you want?”
