Gone Too Far Read Online Free Page A

Look at me. Hiding in my car like I found Charles Manson’s diary or something. Whoever wrote this is delusional. So desperate for drama, they’re turning every little overheard comment into a conspiracy. And I darn near bought it.
    I’ve been sitting here scanning a bunch of cryptic messages for what? My best friend’s super-secret underground life of crime? Come on. Manny’s life of crime includes Slurpees lifted from the Stop and Rob near his house and some seriously tasteless Internet browsing.
    It can’t be true. Can it?
    My chest knots. Manny, tell me you did not get mixed up in anything.
    My eyes are drawn to the bag, the notebook tucked inside. It’s only two entries, but if anyone else figures them out, it’ll be serious. God, I need to find out who wrote this thing.
    There’s a tap on my window and I jerk hard, my thigh slamming into the gearshift. I turn to my window and Nick holds up his hands, like he’s trying to seem disarming.
    I roll down my window. “Don’t you know it’s creepy to sneak up to a girl’s car?”
    â€œI wasn’t exactly sneaking. I did knock.”
    I narrow my eyes, but he looks harmless. That’s probably Nick’s default setting though. He’s standing here with his messy surfer hair and his dimpled smile, wearing a pair of shorts even though it can’t be more than fifty-five degrees outside. The boy is so All-American he should be selling apple pie.
    He’s also enormous. Or at least it seems that way when he leans down to see me better. His shoulders are so broad they deserve their own zip code.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to scare you, Piper, I swear.”
    Suddenly, I remember his eyes on me in the hallway, and then his friends laughing today on the field. My defenses rise, sending the hair on the back of my neck upright.
    â€œAdrenaline overload aside, I’m fine,” I say, aiming for breezy and missing it by a mile.
    â€œYou sure?” he asks.
    I tense. This whole situation is bringing to mind a lot of crappy makeover scenarios where some football-wielding tool makes a play at the smart but dorky art girl.
    Not that I’m a dork. I’m a skirt-the-fringe type, maybe. An avoids-his-kind-like-the-plague type, definitely. But that’s not the point. The point is he doesn’t have any reason to talk to me. So everything about this feels like a setup.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I ask him, looking around for his friends. Or maybe his girlfriend. This is exactly the kind of trap Marlow loves to set.
    â€œYou don’t already know?” Nick tilts his head, smiling.
    â€œNo, I don’t.” Everything feels sharp at the edges. Intense. Like the air between us has a static charge and if I move—maybe if I even breathe—it will zap me.
    He moves first, his cheeks tinged with pink as he reaches into his pocket. I watch him drag out a red wallet, realizing that it isn’t just any wallet. It’s mine.
    He hands it over with another perfect, lopsided grin. “Uh, you dropped it in the grass.”
    Right. When I tripped over my own feet and almost face-planted into the ground.
    â€œWell, I should get back.” He looks toward the school, and I take a deep breath that smells like soap and fallen leaves and boy.
    I know I should thank him. I really should. But I’m so stunned that I don’t. I just sit there like a complete moron—a rude moron—until he’s gone.

CHAPTER THREE
    Tacey greets me at the door of the technology lab at 4:56 the next day. She pushes her long, curly hair away from her eyes. “Didn’t you get my texts after lunch?”
    â€œUh…” I trail off because I did get them. I just didn’t read them. As much as I love her, Tacey is strung like a caffeinated cat, and after yesterday’s drama, I needed a mellow day.
    â€œWell, we have a major emergency,”