Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

“Aw... and now you don’t get to feel like Dick Tracy for catching me.” Marianne grabbed her new peach sweater. “But seriously, Dad, if I was going to sneak out, I wouldn’t let you see me getting ready.”

“Pathetic.” Dad shook his head again. “You know that it’s impossible for you to sneak anywhere, right? You’re a grownup.”

“You’re upset because I’m not going out?” Unbelievable. She’d thought all the comments he made about never getting any trouble from her had been praise. Guess not. Marianne suddenly sucked in a breath and pointed her finger at him. “You really do want me to get knocked up.”

Dad just stared. “I’m going to bed.”

“Bye,” she said as Dad left. Marianne sat down on her bed and then hopped right up again. She had breath issues to take care of. She went to the kitchen, downed a diet Snapple, and grabbed six Altoids out of her purse on the table. She turned off all the house lights, including the porch, and went outside. She sat on the front steps and flipped open her cell phone to play poker while she waited for the call from Patrick.

Thunk. Something hit the step on the other side of the porch and bounced away. Marianne stood up in fear of giant moths or flying cockroaches, but it couldn’t have been a bug. Too big. Maybe a seed had blown off the tree? She pocketed her phone and stalked carefully across the driveway to where the thing had rolled. The street lamp gave just enough light for her to see it shining on the edge of the grass.

She picked up the little transparent ball and turned it over in her hand. Embedded in the rubber was the hideous face of Jar Jar Binks. Marianne clutched the ball to her chin and whipped her head up.

Patrick stood on the edge of Danielle’s lawn, smiling at her. He snapped his cell phone shut. “I didn’t want to sneak up on you again.”

Marianne walked slowly over to the tree in the middle of her yard and leaned against the trunk. It was a nice marker; it stopped her from running over to him like a fool. “So, you thought you’d risk pegging me, instead?”

Patrick tilted his head; obviously curious about why she had stopped walking. “I have better aim than that.”

No doubt. Marianne stayed by the tree with her little ball. “You’ll have to prove it to me sometime.”

Patrick put his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, we should plan it.”

“Absolutely.” Marianne was safely in the shadow, where he couldn’t see her smile. What the hell was she doing right now?

“So...” Patrick rocked back on his heels. “How’ve you been?” he asked, casually.

“Great, great.” Marianne squeezed the ball to keep from laughing. “How about you? Read any good books lately?”

Patrick shook his head. “Chuck Norris doesn’t read books, Marianne. He just stares them down until he gets the information he wants.”

Marianne shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Is your name Chuck Norris?”

“No, I just heard that joke on the radio tonight and thought it was funny.”

“It is funny.” Marianne didn’t know how much more of this weird distance she could stand. It was hilarious and killer painful at the same time. “It’s a very funny joke.”

Patrick took his hand out of his pocket and held his palm out. “If you like, I can let you know about any other ones I learn.”

“That’d be great.” Marianne pushed off the tree and pretended to stretch. “Just call me, you know, whenever you’ve got one.”

“Will do,” he nodded. Then he took a step back. “I should let you get to bed. You look really tired.”

“Okay.” Whoops, she’d let the laugh show on that one. She cleared her throat. “See you later.” Marianne turned and started crossing the lawn toward her front door. Her muscles were so tense that she could hardly walk. It was coming... any second now... She couldn’t handle the suspense and started to sprint. She heard Patrick’s running footsteps then and screamed before he even caught her. He snatched her up from behind by the waist and spun her around in the air. Marianne had to tuck into a little ball to keep from screaming while he whipped her around and around in the yard. Even so, she still thought she sounded like an ambulance or something.

Patrick finally slowed down and set her on the grass in front of him. He bent down and put his face to the side of hers. “You are rotten.”

Marianne turned around and let herself be drawn forward to his chest, her arms tucked up between them. He held her tightly, and she felt like some parasite that wanted to fuse itself to him. “I am rotten,” she said into his t-shirt, “and yet, you can’t get enough of me. Like meth.”

“Exactly like meth.”

She lifted her head up to look at him and reached up hesitantly to touch his three-day stubble with her fingertips. “Growing a beard?” she said.

Patrick closed his eyes for a second while she touched his face and then opened them again. “Sorry,” he said. “I meant to get a haircut and get all put together before I came home, but I chose to look like trash so I could see you sooner.”

“That was very wise. And in case you forgot—” Marianne pulled her hand back from his face. “I cut hair, in addition to my meth-like qualities. You get both.”

“That’s nice, but I only need the one.”

“Certainly. I can get my scissors right now if you want,” she said innocently. She smiled and drew back a step—she couldn’t stop drawing back. What was wrong with her?

Patrick inhaled through his teeth. “Um... are you qualified for that? I’ve heard bad stories about beauty student haircuts.”

“You doubt me?” She pointed at him. “Meet me in your backyard in five minutes.”

Marianne fetched all her gear from her room and entered the backyard next door by the side gate.