The Glaring - Beginning of Chapter 4
Idling in Becca’s driveway Friday night, I wedged the sleeping bag between my knees and the front seat of Andi’s brother’s station wagon. Given Andi’s revelation, I’m not sure why I didn’t leave all my stuff at home. As my grammy says: hope springs eternal. “Maybe if you didn’t have six dogs—” “Five.” Andi shot a look over one shoulder. “We put Mashed Potatoes to sleep, remember?” “Okay five dogs, maybe you wouldn’t get fleas every forty-five seconds—” “It wasn’t the dogs. It was the guinea pigs.” She spun back around and dug in her fanny pack. I heard the crinkly sound of a candy wrapper and blinked. “How does that even happen?” I peered at Chris over the pile of backpacks. “Do they just let the guinea pigs run wild?” Her gaze riveted on Twilight, Chris shrugged. Andi waggled a Twizzler over one shoulder. “Rarely. When we do, they always end up in the walls. My mom is bombing the house tonight. It’ll be fine...