The Last Best Kiss by LaZebnik Claire

Author:LaZebnik, Claire
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperTeen

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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twelve

The twins’ dad has arranged for the van to the music festival to pick us all up at our houses on Friday afternoon. We have just enough time after school to run home and grab our stuff.

At Lucy’s house her entire family—mother, father, and little brother—come outside with her and even stick their heads into the van to say hi to the rest of us. They help her stow her bag, and her father reminds her to work on her college applications and to study for her bio quiz, and then her mother whispers something in her ear that makes Lucy roll her eyes at us and say impatiently, “I know, Mom. You can trust me.” Then her brother tells her she’s incredibly friggin’ lucky to get to go to a music festival and says, “Mom and Dad better let me go to music festivals when I’m in high school.” “Twelfth grade,” says Lucy’s mother, who has a warm smile and is very pretty. Lucy’s father, who looks like a tall, graying, short-haired version of Lucy, cuffs his son on the shoulder and they all finally leave the van.

To put this all in perspective . . . when the van picked me up twenty minutes earlier, I was taping a note for my father—Gone to the music festival with my friends. Be back late Sunday. A—onto the monitor of his desktop computer: I figured it was the one place where I could be sure he’d see it. That was it for my good-byes.

Oscar’s the last pickup. Once he’s carefully arranged his bag in the back and buckled himself into the empty space next to me, the van driver appears in the open sliding door and asks for our attention. He’s a skinny oldish-to-old guy. “Okay, kids,” he says warily, “we’re all on the same side here. You want a quick, pleasant, easy ride to the desert, and so do I. I am well aware that every one of you is under the age of twenty-one. Do you know what that means?” We can guess, but we just stare at him silently. He seems happy to answer it himself. “That means absolutely no drinking in my van. There’s no smoking either. You all speak English, I presume? Do you need to hear it in any other languages?”

“En Español, por favor?” Eric says jokingly.

The guy turns a steely gaze on him. “You really need me to translate? Or are you just being funny?”

Eric waves his hand. “Nah, man, you’re good.”

The driver rubs his hands briskly and says in a completely different, suddenly cheerful tone, “All righty, then! I’m going to hop up front and start driving. You need to stop for a potty break or anything, you just call my name. I’m Bill. Otherwise I’ll leave you alone, and you can pretend I’m not even here. With any luck and not too much traffic, we’ll be at your hotel before six. Keep your seatbelts fastened, relax, and have a great time!” He steps back and slams the door shut.

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