Marianne Elizabeth Hammer (top young adult novels TXT) 📖

It was the ring with four quick pulses—Patrick’s ring.

She shut off the water and ran flat out to get it. She had to adjust her pants as she went; they were loose again. She grabbed the phone and ran back to the bathroom. Nana had fallen asleep on the couch watching South Park, and Marianne didn’t want to wake her. “Hello?” she said, out of breath.

“Hey! There you are,” said Patrick. She could hear the shrill buzzing of a drill in the background. “I called a few minutes ago. How dare you not answer.”

Marianne smiled and wedged the phone to her ear with her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, darling,” she said in her English accent.

“I forgive you,” he said.

Marianne wiggled her fingers back into her gloves. “You’re too kind.”

“I was a little pissed, actually,” he said. “I have good news to tell you.”

“Unless it’s that you’re coming home, I don’t really care,” she said. Marianne flushed the toilet and rinsed the brush in the flowing water.

“That’s...” He paused and then asked, “Where are you?”

“At Nana’s. Cleaning the bathroom.”

She heard Patrick laugh. “Oh good,” he said. “I thought that sounded like a toilet flushing.”

“Gross!” She laughed. “Anyway... what were you going to tell me?”

“The inspector can’t be here until Monday, so I get to come home for a few days.”

Marianne gasped. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I can leave in a couple hours,” he said. He sounded more excited than if tomorrow were Christmas. “I’ll be home by midnight.”

Marianne squealed into the phone. “No way!”

“Yup.”

She picked up the sponge and started cleaning the shower, a perma-smile on her face. “Wow. A four-day break from your wonderful coworkers. How will you cope?”

Patrick moaned over the line. “Tell me about it,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t know how much more of these guys I can take. At least I don’t have to share a motel room with them.”

“So, you’re not going to miss the pot fumes wafting in through your window at night?” she said.

“And the blaring porn soundtrack,” he said. “Don’t forget about that.”

Marianne wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have to do my best to distract you.”

Patrick fake coughed.

“No!” shouted Marianne. “That sounded bad. Not like that.”

He laughed. “You’re so easy to tease. I love it.”

Marianne started rinsing the tub with the shower extension. “At least one of us does,” she said, annoyed.

“I miss you,” he said.

She stopped working and stood up straight. “Yeah.” Marianne bit her lip. “Me, too.”

“Can I call you when I get home? If it’s not too late?”

She shook her head at his stupid question. “Call me anyway.”

“I will,” he said. “Okay, I gotta go finish up with some things. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okie-day.”

“Dude, seriously Marianne,” said Patrick, almost angry. “Stop it with the Jar Jar Binks stuff. I hear that imbecile’s voice in my head all day long now.”

“All right,” she laughed. “My give up. No more Jar Jar.”

“Thank you.”

“Meesa tinkin yousa gettin back ta workin now.”

“You are the worst.”

“Bye!”

“Bye.”

Marianne flipped her phone closed and stuck it in her back pocket. She was seriously in love with that man. She started dating him on a Sunday, kissed him on Monday, fell in love with him over the phone by Friday, and was ready to propose to him by today, Wednesday. Eleven days. Was that okay?

Probably not.

It was kind of pathetic, actually. Marianne went to the kitchen and started filling the sink with water. She hadn’t planned on doing the kitchen today, but Patrick wouldn’t be home for another eight hours. If she went home, she’d spend the entire time fussing over how she looked, and he’d come home to Paris Hilton.

Marianne washed the dishes, organized the refrigerator, and mopped the floor. She was still on her hands and knees on the tacky linoleum, when her phone rang again.

“Hi,” said Sally. “Do you want to go to Disneyland right now?”

“Hi. No.” Marianne was too happy today for that depressing place.

“Yes, you do,” said Sally firmly.

“No, I don’t. Patrick is—”

“Yes, you do!” cried Sally. She was suddenly weeping into the phone.

Marianne sat down on the floor, getting her pants wet. “What’s wrong?”

Unintelligible gibberish. Sobbing. The word boyfriend. More gibberish. The word man-whore.

“Got it,” said Marianne. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”

More weeping.

Marianne just hung up and ran for her purse.

Sally stuck her head out of her upstairs bedroom window and squealed like a little girl when she saw Marianne walking up the driveway. Marianne crossed the lawn and stood under the window. She gave Sally a sympathetic, pouty look and spread her arms out.

Sally bent her pretty face down toward Marianne and smiled as if her prince had come to rescue her from her locked tower. She leaned her elbow on the sill and rested her cheek on her hand. “‘Rarely, rarely comest thou, Spirit of Delight! Wherefore hast thou left me now many a day and night? Many a weary night and day ‘tis since thou art fled away.’”

“Right...” Marianne scratched behind her ear. “So, what’s the plan?” She wasn’t trying to be mean, but geez.

Sally pulled down a piece of her ratted orange hair and twirled it around her finger. “I have no plans. I have no ambitions...”

Marianne exhaled. So this was how tonight was going to go. She squinted up at Sally in sudden inspiration. “Well, do you have makeup?”

Sally brightened up immediately. “Ooh! Yeah!”

Marianne nodded and ran into the house. She met Sally on the landing of the second floor. “I think we’re going to need it all. Everything you’ve got.”

She followed Sally into the bedroom. Her room was typically teenage. Hanging on the walls were rock band posters, Christmas lights, and dried prom corsages. The bedposts and chairs had been annexed as more closet space and peeking out from under the bed were a pair of old school roller skates and a few of her little brother’s toy trucks.

Sally pointed at the far corner of the room where the makeup was and flopped backward onto her bed. The vanity area was