The Cupid Chronicles Read Online Free Page B

doing?”
    â€œAwesome. She’s already talking about franchising. See, Willa. I told you. It’s all about compatibility. I’m working on my own list of questions. How hard can it be? Anyway, Luke and Jessie’s band pukes, but all of the freshmen girls will come to see them. We should charge admission, five bucks or so, to pay them. Got that?”
    â€œYep.” I’m writing as fast as I can. If Tina’s brain clicked like this in class, she’d be in honors. “I’m good. Keep going.”
    â€œOkay,
four:
You plan the games, Willa, some sort of Halloween stuff.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI don’t know. Use that wild imagination of yours, Willa, just be sure they’re
fun.
No word games or anything. Think fun, Willa. Fun, fun, fun.”
    I’m going to have to work on that one.
    â€œAnd don’t worry.” Tina winks. “I’ll bring the right music for the last dance, when the party’s over and it’s getting late and all that’s left is that stairway to heaven.”
    â€œWhat?” I’m confused.
    Tina’s face takes on a dreamy glow. “Tanner McGee may get lured off to that stupid bonfire, but I bet your boy will show up. Joey Kennelly’s a team player.”
    â€œWhat stairway to heaven?”
    â€œOh, Willa,” Tina says, shaking her head. “You’ve got to ditch Shakespeare and get to the
movies
more often.”
    I’m still in the dark.
    â€œThe
ladder,
Willa,” Tina says. “In the barn. The ladder up to the loft.”

CHAPTER 5
 
This is America

 
    Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me …
with volumes that I prize above my dukedom
    â€”The “Bard of Avon,”
The Tempest
    After school, I bike to the library. The sign is still up, the door is locked. I put
Gilly
and Dickens in the returns box and walk around back to the courtyard. The whale spoutin’-fountain is off. The pennies are gone. I need to talk to Gramp.
    The chimes overhead jingle as I enter Sweet Bramble Books. The smell of saltwater taffy makes me want to do a Snoopy dance.
“Mrrrrah,”
Muffles greets me from her perch in the window. I wonder what she’s keeping warm today.
    Gramp Tweed and I have this tradition. Every Friday he puts a new book for me on the window ledge. Muffles sits on the book, like a furry mother bird on an egg, until I arrive. “Hey, Muff.” I scratch her and she leaps, ever the coy cat.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.
I grab some fudge, plop on the couch, and open it. “Serene was a word you could put to Brooklyn, New York. Especially in the summer of …”
    â€œI’ll be interested to hear what you think,” Gramp says, coming out of the Cape Cod Authors aisle with my Shakespeare teacher, Dr. Swaminathan.
    â€œThank you, sir,” Swammy says. “I appreciate your recommendations.”
    When Swammy leaves, Gramp makes us some tea. Lemon, no sugar, the way we like it. “Where’s Nana, Gramp?”
    â€œOut walking Scamp. I promised your Nana if she walks everyday, I’ll take her to New York City in December. Do you know she’s never seen a Broadway show?”
    I’m glad Nana’s exercising. Her doctor changed her heart medication again and said to lose some weight.
    â€œWhat do you know about the library, Gramp?”
    â€œNothing’s been decided yet. It’s on the agenda next council meeting.”
    â€œCan kids talk at that meeting?”
    â€œWell, you have to be eighteen to vote, but there’sno rule against talking. This is Cape Cod. First place the Pilgrims stopped, freedom of expression and all that….”
    â€œGreat,” I say. “I’ve got an expression for that council.” I get up to leave. “Thanks for the book, Gramp. It looks good. Tell Nana I said hello.”
    â€œWait, Willa. Your candy.” Gramp comes toward me with a bag.
    That’s the other