Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

She lowered herself into the pool, getting the bottom half of her own clothes all wet, and held her arms out to Marianne. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore.”

Marianne sighed. “Fine.” She waded over to Georgia and leaned in to hug her, but Georgia slipped in like a snake and planted her mouth right on Marianne’s, clutching her behind the head and refusing to let go. Marianne’s screams were drowned out when they toppled sideways into the water.

Patrick pulled them up and wrapped his arms around Marianne’s fuming body to keep her from drowning Georgia. He kissed her on the top of the head. “You asked for that, you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Marianne. She sloshed over to the steps and stuck her tongue out at Georgia on her way out. Patrick grabbed two towels from Mom, and after wringing out the edges of their clothes, they went into the house.

“My dad probably has clothes that’ll fit you,” said Marianne, stepping over Mickey. He was lying on his stomach on the living room floor playing a video game with Dark Lord Alvin. “Dad?” Marianne popped her head into the kitchen, and her mouth fell open. Dad and Michael were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking beers and smoking cigars with Ronny Grant. “Hi,” she said.

Ronny lifted his bottle. “Nice party,” he said, smoke billowing out with every word. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Sure thing.” Marianne turned wide eyes to Dad, and he smiled. “Can Patrick borrow some dry clothes?”

Dad nodded and then squinted at her. “You should wash your face, Mary.”

Apparently, her ghetto makeup job hadn’t survived the pool all that well. Marianne rolled her eyes and turned around. Just then, the front door flew open, and she was smothered in an amazing black afro and high-pitched squeals.

Brook finished kissing Marianne all over her face and stepped back. “Oh my goodness, I just heard the news!” Brook bounced forward and kissed Patrick on the cheek. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes,” laughed Patrick. “The party’s out back,” he said, pointing toward the backyard.

“Awesome,” said Brook.

She started to walk past them, but Marianne grabbed her arm. “Thanks for coming.” Then she leaned forward and whispered in Brook’s ear, “There’s some very interesting stuff in the linen closet behind the fancy tablecloths, if you’re interested.”

Brook stood completely still. “How much?” she said, barely moving her lips.

“Sixty points,” whispered Marianne. “At least.”

Brook nodded almost imperceptibly and walked away.

“What was that?” said Patrick.

Marianne turned around. “What was what?”

“What did you tell her?”

Marianne tried not to smile. “It’s a secret. I’ll text it to you someday.”

Patrick shoved her sideways. “Oh, get going.” He slapped her on her wet rear when she turned around. “You think you’re so funny.”

Marianne laughed as she walked down the dim hallway. She’d just stepped into her Dad’s room when she heard Patrick open her bedroom door and then slam it shut. She spun around. “What?”

Patrick blinked and shook his head. “Wow.”

Marianne walked over to him slowly. “More gifts from the Dark Lord?” The linen closet couldn’t hold much more, but Brook would be happy.

“I wish.”

Marianne stepped past him and opened her door. What the... Sitting on her bed in the dark were a very guilty and disheveled looking Sally and Christian. Sally coughed and adjusted the sleeve of her coat. Christian scratched his beard. Marianne stepped back against the door frame and crossed her arms. They got up and fled without a word.

Marianne turned her head to Patrick. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Agreed.” He nodded. “And the longest. I’ve been awake since twelve last night.”

Marianne couldn’t even speak. Not with the way he was looking at her.

Patrick continued to stare at her, his brown eyes not moving, his hair all wet. “I got something for you,” he said quietly. “You want to see?”

Heck yes. Marianne stepped into her room and flicked the light switch, but nothing happened. “Darn it,” she muttered. She picked her way carefully into the room and found the pull string for the ceiling fan. Still nothing but moonlight. “The bulb must be out. I’ll go get one.” She tried to step back, but Patrick was right behind her.

He closed the door. “Who cares?” he said, sitting down on the floor against her bed. “Let’s just stay here a while where it’s quiet. Besides, we’re Goth now, so we prefer it like this.”

“We?”

“Of course,” he said, pulling her down to sit next to him. “I make an awesome vampire, remember?”

“I do,” said Marianne, laying her head down on his shoulder. “This is, um… nice.”

“Liar,” he said. “You just want to see what I got you.”

She started laughing. “I do!” she said. “We can pretend to be gloomy later.”

“Here.” He grabbed her hand and placed her fingers on the inside of his forearm, near the wrist. “Feel that?”

“No.”

“Of course you can’t,” he said. “It’s a tattoo.”

Marianne’s breath caught, remembering his trip to the shop with Brook. “What did you get?”

“No way. You have to see it.”

“Okay.” Marianne tried to jump up, but Patrick pulled her back down.

“No. Stay.”

Marianne growled. “You are irritating me.”

“I know,” he said. “But I can’t do without you. Not for a second.”

Marianne reached through the dim light and found his face with her hand. “You really…” She still couldn’t believe it. “You got a tattoo for me? After we broke up?”

“Yeah,” he said, and kissed her palm. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Marianne laughed. “I’ll say.” Then she stopped laughing. She couldn’t help wondering what he thought about that decision now. They were on the same page with everything, right? They had to be, but she wanted to hear him say it.

Patrick sensed the change in her posture. “What is it?”

“Um…” Marianne swallowed. “Well, we haven’t really had a chance to talk, yet. Really talk.”

“What’s wrong?” he said.

Marianne shifted her position. “I was just wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” interrupted Patrick.

“Well!” said Marianne. “You never really said it plainly…”

Patrick was leaning away from her. “Don’t you say it,” he warned. “Don’t you dare.”

“Sorry,”