Free Bad Girls Don't Die by Katie Alender Page B

soft, rhythmic bubbling of the coffee machine.
    “Thanks for doing the dishes.”
    I looked up in surprise to see Mom staring at me.
    “And helping Kasey with her schoolwork,” she said.
    I shrugged.
    “I wasn’t going to say anything, but I have a huge interview on Friday. For a vice presidency. But if I don’t get the job . . .” She shook her head. “I’m so tired, Alexis. I want to be more involved with you girls.”
    My head swam. “Yeah, but . . . what would you do, quit?”
    She stared at the coffeepot.
    “Then how would we afford . . . ?” I let my voice trail off. Somehow it didn’t seem to be the right thing to say. I laid my palm flat against the counter. “Does Dad know?”
    “No,” she said. “I guess I have to talk to him about it.”
    “Will you tell Kasey?”
    “Tell me what?”
    We both jumped at the sound of Kasey’s voice. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, clutching her report.
    Mom took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Kase. Right now I think it should be between your father and I.”
    “And me .”
    “Yes, and you and Alexis too, and we’ll talk about it as a family if it becomes an issue. I promise.”
    “No,” Kasey said. “Your grammar is wrong. ‘Between your father and me .’” She walked to the sink and filled a glass of water. After drinking the whole thing in one long series of glugs, she set the glass down on the counter and looked at Mom, who had frozen in place. “Just my opinion, but I don’t think you’d make a great housewife.” She glanced down at her watch. “I have to go. I’ll walk.”
    She turned and left.
    Mom stood speechlessly by the counter, staring at the spot where Kasey had been.
    All of the temporary closeness between Mom and me escaped out the front door with Kasey, making everything suddenly seem wrong, embarrassing. I reached over and flipped the toaster switch up, grabbing my half-cooked Pop-Tart out of its slot. I dropped it on my plate and walked out without another word.

I WANTED TO FINISH UP AT MY LOCKER before Lydia arrived to pick another fight with the cheerleaders. After the past twelve hours, I couldn’t handle any more drama.
    So when a shadow fell over me as I searched for my copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God , I braced myself.
    “Good morning,” said Carter Blume.
    My math textbook slipped out of my arm and landed on his foot with a painful-sounding thud.
    The cheerleaders tittered.
    Carter picked up the book and handed it back to me, an amused smile on his face.
    “Sorry,” I murmured.
    “Eye for an eye, right?” he asked. “Foot for a forehead? No problem.”
    “Look,” I said. “I just kind of want to be alone.”
    He nodded. “Okay, no problem.” He took a step back and looked around.
    I’d hurt his feelings. I had a chance to take it back, to tell him I didn’t mean it.
    But I didn’t.
    Instead I said, “Cool, thanks,” and let him walk away. Then I turned back to my locker, trying to ignore the contemptuous stares of the cheerleaders. I slammed the door shut and walked past them.
    In the courtyard I went right by the Doom Squad. No one even looked up. Not that I wanted to hang out with them, but it would have been nice if someone called me over. Whatever.
    Somehow I ended up in the library. I thought I’d be safe there—it’s always empty. Today was no different, except that right in my path, seated smack in the middle of one of the ancient, cracked, orange vinyl love seats was a single student—Carter. I sighed and walked over to him.
    “Alexis Warren, you’re stalking me,” he said, his eyes wide.
    “I swear, I had no idea you’d be in here,” I said.
    He smiled a twisted little smile. “No, I’m flattered.” He looked around, kind of disoriented in (I hate to say) a very cute way. “But . . . I’ll go.”
    All of a sudden he didn’t seem like the worst company in the world. “You were here first.”
    He shrugged and reached for his bag.
    “You can hang out if you want,” I