Sanctuary Read Online Free Page B

the photos, Rob, who was still young enough to be in diapers, was being held by a man whom I didn’t recognize. He didn’t look like any of Rob’s uncles, who, like Rob’s mom, were all redheaded. In fact, this man looked more like Rob, with the same dark hair and smokey gray eyes.
    This, I decided, had to be Rob’s dad. Rob never wanted to talk about his dad, I guess because he was still mad at him for walking out on Rob and his mom. Still, I could see why Rob’s mom would have gone for the guy. He was something of a hottie.
    Back downstairs, I handed Mrs. Wilkins her apron. She was still giggling over something Just-Call-Me-Gary had said. Just-Call-Me-Gary looked pretty happy, too. In fact the only person who didn’t look very happy was Rob.
    Mrs. Wilkins must have noticed, since she went, “Rob, why don’t you show Jessica the progress you’ve made on your bike?”
    I perked up at this. Rob kept the bike he was currently working on, a totally choice but ancient Harley, in the barn. This was practically an invitation from Rob’s mom to go and make out with her son. I could not believe my good fortune.
    But once we got into the barn, Rob didn’t look very inclined to make out. Not that he ever does. He is unfortunately very good at resisting his carnal urges. In fact, I would almost say that he doesn’t have any carnal urges, except that every once in a while, and all too rarely for my tastes, I am able to wear him down with my charm and cherry Chap Stick.
    Or maybe he just gets so sick of me talking all the time that he kisses me in order to shut me up. Who knows?
    In any case, he didn’t seem particularly inclined to take advantage of my vulnerable femininity there in the barn. Maybe I should have worn a skirt, or something.
    “Is this just because I drove out here?” I asked, as I watched him tinker around with the bike.
    Rob, looking up at the bike, which rested on a worktable in the middle of the barn, tightened something with a wrench. “What are you talking about?”
    “This,” I said. “I mean, if I’d known you were going to be so crabby about it, I’d have called you to come pick me up, I swear.”
    “No, you wouldn’t have,” Rob said, doing something with the wrench that made the muscles in his upper arms bunch up beneath the gray sweater he wore. Which was way more entertaining than watching sports on TV, let me tell you.
    “What are you talking about? I just said—”
    “You didn’t even tell your parents you were coming here, Mastriani,” Rob said. “So cut the crap.”
    “What do you mean?” I tried to sound offended, even though of course he was telling the truth. “They know where I am.”
    Rob put down the wrench, folded his arms across his chest, leaned his butt against the work-table, and said, “Then why, when you called to tell them you got here, did you say you were at somebody Joanne’s?”
    Damn! I hadn’t realized he’d been in the room when I’d made that call.
    “Look, Mastriani,” he said. “You know I’ve had my doubts from the start about this—you and me, I mean. And not just because I’ve graduated and you’re still in the eleventh grade—not to mention the whole jailbait factor. But let’s be real. You and I come from different worlds.”
    “That,” I said, “is so not—”
    “Well, different sides of the tracks, then.”
    “Just because I’m a Townie,” I said, “and you’re a—”
    He held up a single hand. “Look, Mastriani. Let’s face it. This isn’t going to work.”
    I’ve been working really hard on my anger management issues lately. Except for that whole thing with the football players—and Karen Sue Hankey—I hadn’t beat up a single person or served a day of detention the whole semester. Mr. Goodhart, my guidance counselor, said he was really proud of my progress, and was thinking about canceling my mandatory weekly meetings with him.
    But when Rob held up his hand like that, and said that this, meaning us, wasn’t