How I Stole Johnny Depp's Alien Girlfriend Read Online Free Page B

know how she did it!” he keeps repeating. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life! It’s shocking! Unbelievable!”
    I shoot to the staircase and run toward Zelda’s room.
    â€œDavid!” Dad calls after me and makes gestures, like, Wait a second, don’t go in her room, etc., but I shrug and pretend I don’t understand, and he’s way too busy on the phone to stop me.
    â€œZelda?” I call.
    I go into her room. “Zel…”
    Her gizmo lies in the middle of the room, intact, unbroken, perfectly closed, but there’s no Zelda in it. I hear Dad’s heavy footsteps. He stops beside me. We contemplate the gizmo for a while.
    â€œShe’s gone again,” he says, looking like he ate a slug and it refuses to slide down.
    A bald policeman inspects the gizmo from every angle and passes it to his hairier colleague. “Have you ever seen anyone take one of these off?” he asks.
    â€œNot without breaking it or setting it off,” Dad answers, serving them coffee.
    They’re plainclothes officers. The uniformed ones are outside, confiscating pitchforks and trying to calm down the Cornouaillois enraged by the news of this third escape.
    â€œHow do you think she did it?” The policeman puts the gizmo down in the middle of the kitchen table.
    Dad sighs and scratches his chin. “She would have had to… well, hmm…”
    He has absolutely no idea.
    They drink their coffee while staring at the mysterious gizmo. I’m having cold milk. It’s breakfast time. There are croissants on the table, but no one really has any appetite.
    â€œMaybe she managed to open it, take it off, and lock it back real fast before the alarm went off,” suggests one of the policemen.
    They think about it and then shake their heads unanimously.
    â€œThis is nuts !” the bald policeman says, blowing on his coffee.
    â€œNothing is ever…nuts,” Dad mumbles unconvincingly.
    There’s a strangely silent gizmo and a girl who vanished into thin air to prove him wrong.
    â€œGo get dressed,” Dad says, realizing I’m still wearing my old Tintin pajamas (more evidence of Dad’s fascination for the guy). “Your mother will be mad if you’re not ready when she arrives.”
    He’s wrong about that. Mom will get mad no matter what. And anyway it’s already too late: We can hear her car roaring up the gravel path.
    I hesitantly walk out and stop in front of the garage to welcome her and see if she ran over any villagers who got in her way. Herfancy Mercedes sport coupe slides to a halt just an inch away from me. Mom gets out, blowing cigarette smoke through her nose, dragon style.
    She’s wearing the size-two black ensemble she uses for work. Black sunglasses. Black hair tightly pulled back. She looks like the Angel of Death on a business trip. Even the Cornouaillois stop yelling, sensing danger.
    â€œDo you really think I have nothing better to do than come here?” she says. That’s her version of Hi, darling—how have you been? “I’m missing a court appointment for you.”
    Mom’s a divorce lawyer. She’s brilliant at it.
    â€œHi, Mom,” I say carefully.
    She takes off her sunglasses. She’s even scarier when you can see her cold blue eyes. “How can you let him dress you like this?” she coughs out. She’s not a big Tintin fan, either. And she is very particular about how I dress, even to go to bed. She wants me to make her look chic at any time of day or night, just like any of her other fashion accessories.
    Dad comes out of the house to defend his choice of pajamas.
    â€œYou!” Mom barks, pointing at him like a wound-up wrestler about to trash him around the ring. “You’re going to pay for this!”
    â€œI know,” Dad says, avoiding eye contact.
    He’s a strong man normally, but when Mom’s around, he has the