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“Oh, no!” I cried.

I had lost track of time. I could easily be late for school again!

“Where are you? I’ve been honking and pushing your doorbell. I even called your cell, but it went right to your voice mail. I wasn’t sure if you had forgotten and either gone with your father or driven yourself. What’s going on?”

“I’ll be right there!” I cried.

How could I be so absorbed that I wouldn’t hear all that noise?

I shoved the diary under my pillow, grabbed my books, and practically leaped over the bed to get out the door. I flew down the stairs, nearly twisting my ankle at the bottom, and came close to ripping the door off its hinges to get out.

Kane wore a smile of incredulity. “What’s happening?”

“Let’s just go,” I said, rushing past him. I turned because he was still standing there. “Hurry!”

I got into his car, and he moved quickly now to get in and start the engine.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t tell me you overslept again.”

I didn’t answer. He looked at me and backed out.

I was grateful now that we lived on a practically dead street, because neither he nor I looked both ways. We just shot out onto the street, and he spun the tires. If my father had been home and seen this, I’d be as dead as one of his doornails.

“It’s going to be close,” Kane said. “Personally, I don’t care. It’ll be my first warning slip, but you . . .”

“Just don’t get a speeding ticket, and don’t go through any red lights,” I ordered.

If we got into an accident or Kane got a speeding ticket, I’d feel worse than Cathy in the attic. I’d probably be just as sick to my stomach when the principal informed my father about my second lateness in a row. I pushed the vision of my father’s face of disappointment out of my mind.

“So? What’s going on? Are you sick or something? What happened?”

“Something,” I said.

He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Oh, no,” I said. We were making good time, but now my heart sank. There was one of those fender-bender accidents just at the road where we had to turn off to get to the school. Traffic was backed up. I knew there was a way around, but it would add a good five minutes and only that if we were lucky. Other people were probably doing the same thing by now. I started to tell him where to turn.

“I know, I know. Relax,” he said. “We’re not going to be the only ones going to school who were caught in this mess. It’s actually a bit of good luck. Mr. Market will have to take that into consideration.”

A little less than five minutes later, we turned into the school parking lot. I could hear the bell ringing.

“We’re late for homeroom.”

“Stop worrying. I’ll explain.”

“I don’t need anyone to explain for me,” I replied, a little too harshly, but I couldn’t help it. I was enraged at myself for putting myself in this position.

When we reached the front entrance, I looked back and felt some relief. Four more cars were pulling into the parking lot, with two more waiting to make the turn. Kane was right. There would be enough of us in the same situation.

In fact, at the principal’s office, there were three others ahead of us, all seniors. Mrs. Grant was writing out green slips, which indicated acceptable excuses. So the situation had already been explained and confirmed. Nevertheless, when it was my turn, she looked up at me with some disappointment in her face.

“I would have thought you would have left yourself lots of time, Kristin. You have to anticipate problems if you want to get ahead in life.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

She shook her head but wrote out the slip.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Young Adult