manicpixiedreamgirl Read Online Free Page A

My last thought on Earth was I’d never get to see Rebecca Webb in
Midsummer
.
    “Three against one?” I heard Robby shout. “That’s noteven
remotely
pussy!” He and Justin appeared behind the seniors, who whirled toward them.
    “Hey!” some random teacher shouted. “That’s enough. Get to class!”
    The seniors melted into the crowd with lifted middle fingers and scowls. Robby and Justin came up to me.
    “Were you going to fight them?” I asked Robby as my heart rate struggled to return to normal.
    Robby gave me a shocked expression. “Aw,
hell
no,” he said. “I was just buying time for someone to break it up.”
    I couldn’t help laughing, and neither could Robby and Justin. We went on to our classes. I’ve considered them both my best friends from that day on.
    I checked to see if Becky had witnessed any of this, but she wasn’t in the hall anymore. And while I should’ve been scared for my life, mostly I couldn’t stop thinking about the look she gave me.
    Rebecca Webb knew I existed.

    I can feel my eyebrows crashing together as I frown at the near-sob in Becky’s voice. Something—or someone—hurt her.
    “Becky?”
    “I was, um …,” Becky says, then stops. I hear her take a shuddering breath before she goes on. “Is there any chance maybe I could get you to come over for a while? Just for a bit?”
    “Yes,” I say. “Of course, yeah, absolutely. I’m on my way, okay? All right?”
    “Thanks, Ty,” Becky says.
    “Be there soon,” I say, and hang up.
    Robby glares at me.
    “I gotta go,” I tell them.
    “You aren’t going
nowhere
, brother,” Robby says.
    I can’t tell if he’s swaying or I am. “Dude, something’s wrong with Becky, I gotta go see her.”
    Justin stands up beside Robby, blocking my path to the parking lot. Robby shakes his head.
    “Not like that, bro,” Robby says. “Uh-uh.”
    “What?”
    “Dude, you’re wrecked,” Robby informs me. “You’re not getting in that car.”
    “Screw you,” I say. “I barely had half what you did, and—whatever. Becky needs me.”
    I take a step toward the parking lot. Robby sidesteps to intercept.
    “Ty,” he says, “you take one more step toward that car, I’m gonna punch you in the dick.”

    Robby was only a skinny little dweeb freshman like me that day he and Justin interfered with my imminent senior beating. Since then, he’d put on about twenty pounds, maybe more, most of it muscle, and he’d grown about six inches. Growth spurt, I guess. I’d gotten taller, butnot much else. No matter his size, one thing was still true about Robby Jackson: he was no bully, and he wasn’t violent, but he also wasn’t afraid of anyone.
    Least of all me.
    Robby was one of those laid-back, easygoing, funny, and fun-loving types who can and does get along with virtually everyone. Pick any high school label you want—Robby had friends who fit it. Probably that’s because during freshman and sophomore years, he raced through pretty much every style of clothes and music known to man. By the third month of freshman year, he was wearing nothing but basketball shorts and jerseys while he listened to rap and hip-hop, his heavy-metal T-shirts forgotten. Later it was all black shoes, white socks, and nothing but Johnny Cash and rockabilly. And wherever Robby wandered, he left a trail of charmed friends behind.
    Well, no. Not friends. Not the way he would define it.
    Justin and I went with Robby’s parents on a day-hike trip toward the end of freshman year, before the summer weather really hit. I remember sitting after a three-hour hike, tired, sore, and out of breath. Exhilarated, though, because the view from this mountaintop was awesome.
    “Thanks for coming with me, guys,” Robby said suddenly as he gazed at the panorama around us.
    Justin and I traded a glance. It wasn’t the kind of thing a fifteen-year-old guy goes around saying. But then, that was Robby. Spoke his mind, consequences be damned. I always respected that