Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

She started to leave but had to come back. “I need to borrow a dollar.”

“That’s right.” He smiled. “I outlawed your purse.” Patrick gave her a five out of his wallet.

“Be right back.” She stuck the money in her pocket and waved bye. He watched her leave, and she waved again as she passed by the front window.

Marianne rushed over to the beauty supply store and bought a pack of gum from the little rack by the checkout. Her tongue felt like a giant slug in the back of her throat. She had to breathe through her nose just to keep from gagging. She hadn’t eaten that much in what seemed like forever. Well... maybe that wasn’t true. She mentally counted her calories as best she could.

Actually, she hadn’t eaten that much at all. She hadn’t gone over her limit. But there was still something illegal about it. Strange. She stopped outside the store to open the gum.

Bing.

She got it. It was that she hadn’t actually wanted to eat at all. It hadn’t been her choice; she’d eaten for Patrick’s sake. She didn’t know why that should matter, but it did. The slug in her throat had seemed to shrink at the Bing, but now he was back. Marianne almost moaned in frustration. Should she ignore it and go back to the cell phones? Or go get rid of the intrusive third-wheel on their date?

Marianne looked around and spotted the restroom. The little stick figure in the skirt was like a sign. Well yes, it was an actual sign, but it was like an omen, too. She ran in.

The women’s restroom was heavily populated, which was annoying. She’d only forced herself to throw up once before, and that in the privacy of her own home. Whatever. If anyone asked, she’d tell them she had the flu; that would send them running. Marianne went into the stall, bolted it shut, and grabbed a bunch of toilet paper to hold over her eyes. She didn’t want her mascara to run when her eyes began to water.

One, two, three. Go.

Her fricking stomach wouldn’t cooperate. She bent lower and used all four fingers.

Success.

Marianne wiped her eyes and her mouth. She put on a sick-looking face and walked out. Surprise, surprise, no one seemed to notice or care. Awesome. She washed her hands and even rinsed out her mouth. Hey, if they didn’t care, she didn’t either. She popped in two pieces of gum, tossed the trash away, and left. Even the air tasted cleaner.

Marianne got back to the store just in time to witness Patrick sign the two-year service contract in his own blood. He grabbed the bag and led her toward the door. He opened it for her. “Did you get lost?”

“Yeah.” She handed him his change and offered him the package. “I’m bringing green gum?”

“Sorry. This picnic’s going to be over before you figure it out.”

Marianne made random guesses all the way back to the truck. “I’m bringing mini...” She paused because Patrick was nodding at her like mad. “Mini marshmallows?”

“So close.” He put the shopping bag on her lap and shut her door.

Marianne unwrapped the phone and charger while Patrick drove out of the lot. “Hey, you got the one I showed you.” She plugged them into the cigarette lighter to charge.

“You have good taste.” He gave her his gorgeous grin. He was so beautiful in the dark. “So, are you going to forget about this lame date and go out with me again?”

Marianne narrowed her eyes at him. “On one condition. I need better hints about the picnic game.”

“Marshmallow yams,” he said immediately. “It has to be something with your initials.”

“What the? That’s not a hint!”

“Oops. I guess I got a little overexcited.”

Marianne smiled and looked out the window. Overexcited was a good thing and completely forgivable.

“You’ve got to work on your communication skills, Marianne York. Was that a yes?”

“Yes.” Marianne picked up the shopping bag and started looking through the paperwork. “Did they give you a good phone number?”

“No.”

She found the number on the top of the first page. “What? Seven million, five hundred eighty-four thousand, nine hundred, and twenty-six is my favorite number. I’m jealous.”

“You’ll remember it then. Good.” He winked at her. “But maybe you should save it on your phone, anyway.”

Marianne pulled her phone out of her purse and input the number. “There we go. Just for caller ID purposes.”

“Sure. Except that I can’t call you because I don’t have your number yet.”

“Do you want my number?”

Patrick looked frustrated again. “Are you for real, Marianne?”

Yes, she was, actually. She shrugged against her place against the door.

Patrick unclipped his new phone from the charger and tossed it into her lap. “Put it in.”

Marianne picked it up and typed in her number. “Okay. Here you go.” She held it out to him. “Welcome to the future,” she said in a low, robotic voice.

Patrick smiled at her. “Nice. I should have that for my voicemail greeting.”

“Oh yeah. You do need a greeting.” Marianne flipped open his phone and pointed to the green button. “Just press this, and it’ll take you to your mailbox.”

“Do it.”

“No, you have to do it.” Marianne snapped the phone closed and tried to hand it to him again. “It’s your phone.”

“But I don’t have your rad android voice.” He looked sideways at her. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed.”

“I’m embarrassed.” They’d just pulled up to the house, and Marianne unbuckled her seatbelt. “I hate doing that stuff.”

Patrick killed the engine, but didn’t get out. “I know. You’re a horrible communicator; that’s why you need practice. Go ahead.”

Marianne flipped open his phone roughly and pressed the voicemail button. “You’ll be sorry,” she grumbled. She hit the three button when prompted and spoke in her robot voice again. “This is Patrick’s phone. Just... please leave a... your message.” She pressed one.

Patrick laughed. “That was awful. Just awful.”

Marianne started cracking up. “I told you.”

“Retry.”

Marianne hit three to record again. “Patrick is not available at this time.” She started laughing