You Can’t Stop Me Read Online Free Page B

to Jeff.
    Sometimes, though, she seemed really immature to him. She texted constantly during various stupid shows that she and her clique of girlfriends found “awesome,” always about girls their age or a little older and a lot richer. Jeff had agreed to make sure Jess didn’t get busted by Mom for texting when she was supposed to be doing homework—that was the second half of his payment for the math boost.
    Even in the family room, where he sat curled on the floor in stocking feet with his math book, Jeff could detect the wafting aroma of spaghetti and meatballs, a family favorite. The tomato sauce would mean extra scrubbing when he did the dishes tonight, but why complain? He was guaranteed an A on his math homework, and he loved spaghetti.
    Then he heard the sound of trouble—Mom’s heels clicking in the hallway.
    “Jess,” he hissed, voice low.
    His sister, eyes glued to the family room’s big TV, didn’t hear him, or those clicking heels either.
    “Jess,” he tried again, struggling to keeping it low enough to avoid their mother’s radar-like hearing, but loud enough to snap his sister out of her texting trance.
    Still no response.
    Panicking now, knowing that if he slipped up in his guard duty, Jess would make his life eternally miserable, the boy did the only thing he could think of: he hurled his pen at his sister’s noggin.
    After the pen careened off her skull, she spun on him, her eyes wide with homicidal rage.
    Making a terrified face, he pointed violently toward the hallway, and Jess’s expression melted immediately. She fumbled for, and got, his pen, tossed it back, hid the offending phone under a pillow, and turned down the TV to a more reasonable volume. She also managed to pick up a history book and appear to be enthralled.
    The whole series of actions seemed to Jeff like a great baseball play—Evan Longoria, his favorite player, diving to his left to stop a hot grounder, then rising, stepping on third, and throwing to first to complete a double-play.
    Mom strode in—slender, blond, blue-eyed, wearing the slacks and blouse she’d worn to work—and moved immediately to Jeff’s side. She tousled his hair and gave him a huge smile that he couldn’t help but return.
    Jess smiled at her mother too, but to her brother it seemed forced.
    “What are you reading, dear?” Mom asked her.
    Holding up the book dutifully, Jessica answered, “American History.”
    Mom didn’t miss a beat, glancing at the screen and saying, “Like the invention of lip gloss?”
    Jessica, her mouth moving, couldn’t find words.
    Trying extra hard not to laugh as his sister got busted, Jeff buried himself in his math book and did his best to look both busy and completely disinterested in Jessica’s fate.
    “Let’s turn off the TV,” Mom said, “and get ready for dinner.”
    Jessica didn’t argue, simply used the remote.
    Mom asked Jeff, “How was your day?”
    He shrugged.
    “Did they teach you brain surgery or anything?”
    “Mom,” he said, drawing out the last letter.
    Jessica fell into line behind their mother, who led the way out of the family room, Jeff trailing. Mom was making her usual left turn to the kitchen, Jess about to head over to the stairs to the bathroom, Jeff ready to head down the hall to wash his hands when the front door opened.
    Jeff at first thought it was his father, but this figure was skinnier, and maybe not as old, and held a pistol, which Jeff’s dad would never do in the house.
    The man’s entrance was so sudden, Jeff was more surprised than afraid, stunned to see the stranger step inside and close the door behind him, as casual as if this were Jeff’s father.
    Mom, however, seemed to instantly see that something was very wrong and moved between the intruder and her kids.
    Looking past his mother, Jeff watched in silent horror as the stranger brought the pistol up and pointed it at her.
    “No,” Mom said, holding up a hand like the crossing guard at school, and the man