Get Ready for War Read Online Free Page A

gasped. “I . . . can’t . . . breathe . . .”
    â€œThat’s the point. I will take your breath.” Her eyes were black and cold as she looked at me. “You want Knox, then you can have him, because I’m done with you.” She let me go, quickly turned, and I jumped, grabbing my neck.
    â€œNo, don’t jump.” My mother slid her jewelry back on. “Little too late for that. Next time just come correct and work on your reflex.” She dusted invisible wrinkles off the front of her peach-colored slacks and white sleeveless Chanel blouse. “For now, I’m packing away Shakeesha.” She tucked her Chloé clutch under her left arm. “Because the next time she comes out you’ll be added to the body count. The plane leaves in two hours and it will take off with or without you.”
    â€œMa—”
    She didn’t answer; instead she walked out of the room and the door closed behind her.
    And all I could think was my mother had lost her mind.
    Welcome to my life.

3
    Heather
    I was desperate to slice my wrist. Or take a blade and run it across my throat.
    End it all.
    Suicide-bomb my way out of hell.
    And pray to God to sever my veins and let me bleed to death.
    This way I could stop the sharp jabs that tortured my stomach and forced me to grip the cold edges of this repulsive steel toilet and dry heave.
    I needed something.
    Anything.
    That could murder this monkey who crept up my back and ghostly whispered in my ear that I needed a hit.
    When I didn’t need it .
    I just wanted it bad as hell.
    There was a difference.
    Uncontrollable sweat dripped from the crown of my head, over my forehead, and rained down my temples as I rose from the toilet and dried my face with the sleeve of my oversized forest-green jumpsuit.
    You gotta get up . . .
    How?
    I wiped my face again and stood up straight, only to stumble against the wall. I did what I could to play off my legs feeling like willow branches, especially since all eyes were on me.
    Snickering.
    Whispering.
    Pointing.
    There was no effen privacy. None. Everyone who passed by or sat in open view of the toilet was all in my business . And with all of the noise and the constant buzzing, I couldn’t even hear myself think.
    Sweat poured down my temples again and lightning roared in my belly. I had to get the hell out of here!
    My nerves were shot.
    My head hurt.
    My chest felt like it was giving way to an asthma attack. Even though I wasn’t asthmatic.
    I wanted to scream Let me out! Do you know who I am! But I’d been here for three days and had already screamed I’m Wu-Wu Tanner for twenty-seven hours straight, and the only thing it did was give me a headache and a sore throat.
    I was America’s sweetheart. A role model. The star of The Wu-Wu Tanner Show . Nickelodeon Choice Awards pick for favorite actress. Sold more Wu-Wu dolls than Barbie. More kids were addicted to me than Miley Cyrus. And none of that meant anything in here. What mattered were my charges and whatever the judge decided my fate would be.
    I had to get it together so when I appeared before the judge sometime this morning, he wouldn’t think I was a junkie mess. Because I wasn’t a junkie. I just needed one hit and I would be straight. But thanks to the Los Angeles County juvenile detention center, holding me against my will, and Spencer, who made it her business to be all up in mine by calling the police on me after she crashed my party and disrupted my get right, I hadn’t had a hit in three days, was sick, and going crazy.
    Relax.
    I can’t relax!
    Breathe.
    I can’t do that either!
    I needed to sit down or I would pass out. The rubber soles of my tan plastic slip-ons squeaked as I walked into the dayroom and was greeted with, “Wu-Wu’s in the house!”
    I didn’t respond. Instead I walked over to the chair closest to the corner of the room and sat down. A few girls snickered as I walked by.