Halloween Hijinks (A Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 1) Read Online Free
Author: Kathi Daley
group.”
“Terrific,” I groaned .
My disdain for Zak is one of long-standing, with historical roots planted as far back as the seventh grade. In retrospect, I guess the incident, which led to months of uncontrolled sobbing and persistent feelings of self-loathing on my part, wasn’t entirely his fault. He beat me quite soundly in the mathathon, for which I’d been studying relentlessly for almost three months. Yes, I was humiliated when I discovered that he’d only just found out about the event the previous day, indicating that he had spent virtually no time wallowing, as I had, in academic angst. Yes, I’d invited my maternal grandparents, a scary couple I’d met only a handful of times yet still inexplicably wanted to please, and yes, miracle of miracles, this untouchable couple, who valued achievement above all else, actually agreed to come to this lowly competition after being assured by my overachieving mother that I was the brightest student in the class and would win by a landslide.
“Perhaps your time would be better spent on one of the other to wn committees,” I suggested. “I hear they always need volunteers for litter control.”
“ Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
It had been over a year since Zak had been home. While I spent most of my high school years studying my brains out in an attempt to beat Zak at—well, pretty much anything—he was busy building a software company in his garage. Seven days after his twenty-first birthday, he sold the enterprise to Microsoft for tens of millions of dollars, and he’s been dividing his time between Ashton Falls and the rest of the world ever since.
“ About as much as I miss the stomach flu I got last winter,” I shot back. Truth be told, I did sort of miss the gadfly, but I’d sooner spend the winter cleaning the grease pit at the Burger Barn than admit it.
Zak just smiled and winked . A familiar gesture he knows I hate. The thing about Zak is that he knows I loathe him and yet he goes out of his way to be sugar and spice and everything nauseating. It drives me totally insane, which, I have decided, has been his plan all along. Deciding not to fall victim to the egghead’s little mind games, I changed the subject to the one thing we both actually agree on: our love for our four-legged best friends.
“How’s Lambda? ” I asked, referring to the shelter dog Zak adopted four years ago.
“He’s good . He developed a bit of arthritis in his bum leg, but I got some medication and he seems to be doing better. I’ve been working up his endurance by walking him along the lakeshore since we’ve been home.”
“That’s a good idea , but don’t overdo it,” I warned. “Other than the leg everything seems to be okay?”
“Yeah, he seems happy . He’s glad to be home. I think he missed you.”
“Yeah, I missed him , too,” I said and meant it. Lambda, a chocolate lab, had been involved in a run-in with a black bear. Near death when I found him, I brought him to the shelter and nursed him back to health with the help of my assistant, Jeremy Fisher, and our volunteer shelter veterinarian, Scott Walden. Lambda was a young dog at the time of the attack and healed quickly, but his altercation left him with some permanent disabilities, and I worried about his ability to age gracefully.
“I’l l bring him by the shelter sometime this week,” Zak volunteered. “I know he’d love to see you.”
“That would be nice . I’m sure Scott and Jeremy would love to see him, too.”
I was spared the need to make further chitchat by the arrival of Ellie and my dad, both of whom greeted Zak with warm hugs and heartfelt wishes. Sometimes I feel awash in a sea of Zak lovers. No one really gets why the guy irritates me so much, and most think my disdain for his very existence is petty and mean-spirited. Sometimes even I don’t understand why the guy pushes my buttons the way no one else can. Sure, I came in second to his first in every
“Terrific,” I groaned .
My disdain for Zak is one of long-standing, with historical roots planted as far back as the seventh grade. In retrospect, I guess the incident, which led to months of uncontrolled sobbing and persistent feelings of self-loathing on my part, wasn’t entirely his fault. He beat me quite soundly in the mathathon, for which I’d been studying relentlessly for almost three months. Yes, I was humiliated when I discovered that he’d only just found out about the event the previous day, indicating that he had spent virtually no time wallowing, as I had, in academic angst. Yes, I’d invited my maternal grandparents, a scary couple I’d met only a handful of times yet still inexplicably wanted to please, and yes, miracle of miracles, this untouchable couple, who valued achievement above all else, actually agreed to come to this lowly competition after being assured by my overachieving mother that I was the brightest student in the class and would win by a landslide.
“Perhaps your time would be better spent on one of the other to wn committees,” I suggested. “I hear they always need volunteers for litter control.”
“ Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
It had been over a year since Zak had been home. While I spent most of my high school years studying my brains out in an attempt to beat Zak at—well, pretty much anything—he was busy building a software company in his garage. Seven days after his twenty-first birthday, he sold the enterprise to Microsoft for tens of millions of dollars, and he’s been dividing his time between Ashton Falls and the rest of the world ever since.
“ About as much as I miss the stomach flu I got last winter,” I shot back. Truth be told, I did sort of miss the gadfly, but I’d sooner spend the winter cleaning the grease pit at the Burger Barn than admit it.
Zak just smiled and winked . A familiar gesture he knows I hate. The thing about Zak is that he knows I loathe him and yet he goes out of his way to be sugar and spice and everything nauseating. It drives me totally insane, which, I have decided, has been his plan all along. Deciding not to fall victim to the egghead’s little mind games, I changed the subject to the one thing we both actually agree on: our love for our four-legged best friends.
“How’s Lambda? ” I asked, referring to the shelter dog Zak adopted four years ago.
“He’s good . He developed a bit of arthritis in his bum leg, but I got some medication and he seems to be doing better. I’ve been working up his endurance by walking him along the lakeshore since we’ve been home.”
“That’s a good idea , but don’t overdo it,” I warned. “Other than the leg everything seems to be okay?”
“Yeah, he seems happy . He’s glad to be home. I think he missed you.”
“Yeah, I missed him , too,” I said and meant it. Lambda, a chocolate lab, had been involved in a run-in with a black bear. Near death when I found him, I brought him to the shelter and nursed him back to health with the help of my assistant, Jeremy Fisher, and our volunteer shelter veterinarian, Scott Walden. Lambda was a young dog at the time of the attack and healed quickly, but his altercation left him with some permanent disabilities, and I worried about his ability to age gracefully.
“I’l l bring him by the shelter sometime this week,” Zak volunteered. “I know he’d love to see you.”
“That would be nice . I’m sure Scott and Jeremy would love to see him, too.”
I was spared the need to make further chitchat by the arrival of Ellie and my dad, both of whom greeted Zak with warm hugs and heartfelt wishes. Sometimes I feel awash in a sea of Zak lovers. No one really gets why the guy irritates me so much, and most think my disdain for his very existence is petty and mean-spirited. Sometimes even I don’t understand why the guy pushes my buttons the way no one else can. Sure, I came in second to his first in every
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