Pretty Wanted Read Online Free

periodicals desk, a solid block of wood, and quickly arranged ourselves on the floor in fetal position. My face was pressed to the carpet and I felt its scratchy fibers imprinting themselves on my cheek as we waited.
    The light swept into the room, preceding the guard who was only an arm’s length behind. We could hear him whistling as he flashed and looked, the piercing gold beam moving here and there, finding the darkest corners.
    Please. Don’t let him see us. I no longer even attempted to pray to anyone or anything specific. With all the crap I’d pulled over the past couple of months, I knew I didn’t deserve any godly intervention from any supernatural force. It was more for my own well-being that I clenched my teeth and mentally repeated the words until they became a soothing mantra. If I was going down, at least I could do so in a somewhat chillastic manner.
    The sounds drew nearer. He was totally going to see us. The light was already leaking through the crack between the bottom of the desk and the floor. It was seconds before it would be on us, exposing us here in burning brightness.
    There would be questions, handcuffs maybe. Our long-winded explanations. And then we’d be sent back to Arizona. Back to the cinder-block rat house they’d locked me up in before.
    I couldn’t even look at Aidan. I depended on him to not be afraid and I knew any glimpse of fear on his face would send me over the edge. Instead, I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling blood fill my body, expanding every capillary. This was it.
    Just then, a car screeched outside. A horn honked, belatedly but long and angry. Car doors slammed. Two people yelled at each other. A near accident, it sounded like, because both voices were full of blame. The guard went to look out the window. And then, before we even knew what happened, he was gone, taking his flashlight with him.
    Somehow, by the grace of crappy drivers, we were alone again.
    But the make-out mood was kinda ruined.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
    HarperCollins Publishers
    ..................................................................
    THREE
    IN THE MORNING , we woke up to the sound of doors upstairs. We dashed toward the stacks and hid there, crouching between metal shelves filled (appropriately enough) with legal books, waiting until the library had officially been open for an hour and we could blend in with the other patrons. As we stared silently at the gold foil–lettered volumes with their white call-number stickers, I wondered if there was anything in there I needed to know. Anything that could help me make my case when it was time to make it. Probably not. In the eyes of the law, I was pretty much a deadbeat. The law didn’t care whether you were looking for your mother—or whether you were doing the wrong thing in order to do the right thing.
    We’d mapped her apartment building, which was almost a straight shot west, but it was miles away, too far for us to walk.
    “Let’s get a cab,” Aidan said.
    “It might be expensive,” I said.
    “It’s more efficient. Time equals money, you know? That’s what my dad always says. The sooner we do this, the better.”
    I thought it over. If we really got stuck we could always call our friend Tre again and get him to wire us more cash, but I was hoping not to have to do that. I knew Tre’s feelings about being involved with our illegal activities were conflicted at best, and I didn’t want to do anything more to compromise him.
    Aidan was right, though. We had a job to do right now and we couldn’t afford to stall.
    “All right,” I said, and Aidan stepped out into the street, raising his arm.
    Within minutes, a yellow taxi pulled over and we hopped in.
    “Where to?” the driver called out without turning around to look at us. Obliviousness or cynicism? Both were good in this situation. Both meant he wouldn’t recognize us.
    “611 Westgate Avenue,” I said.
    The cab hurtled forward and merged onto