Free Rippler by Cindy Page B

she said, red lips pinching together. “Switzerland. So anyways, some nefarious criminal pays their rent every month.”
    I frowned. “I don’t think having a Swiss bank account makes you automatically a
    criminal, Gwyn.”
    She shrugged. “Or maybe their dad makes big money selling drugs and they know all
    about it but they turn a blind eye.”
    “Or maybe their mom wanted to prevent their dad from ever accessing her kids’ money,”
    I said. “Honestly, Gwyn, just because you can make up a crazy story doesn’t mean it’s true.”
    “Maybe. But Ma says they’re a strange pair.”
    “This, from the woman who thinks you want to be a doctor?”
    She laughed so hard she snorted. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
    “I’m just saying, this is Will Baker we’re talking about. Politest-guy-on-the-planet-Will.
    And Sylvia really likes his sister.”
    “I know,” said Gwyn, sighing. “But I care about you. And there’s just something about them that doesn’t add up. That’s all I’m saying. So be careful.”
    I gazed out at the pines flashing past and wondered if there was anything I could say without giving away their secrets. Finally I said something about how they’d both been through a lot, and didn’t everyone deserve a second chance?
    “Now you sound like Ma,” said Gwyn. “Please. I get enough of the bleeding heart club at home. Maybe some people deserve a second chance, but I think it all depends on what they did with their first chance.”
    I sensed this was an argument I couldn’t win.
    “But I’ll give you cute,” she said, grinning mischievously. “He’s all over tall, dark, and handsome.”
    I smiled.
    “Maybe he’s bi-polar, you know, like Jekyll and Hyde,” said Gwyn.
    I shook my head. “I don’t think being bi-polar was Hyde’s problem. Not to mention, it’s fiction.”
    “Truth is stranger than fiction, girlfriend,” said Gwyn, looking at me over the top of her sunglasses again.
    You have no idea, I thought.
    “Does he like you?” Gwyn asked.
    She slowed for a hairpin curve and a pair of dragonflies whirred past, their white tails a sharp contrast to their black-and-clear wings. I couldn’t tell if they were flying with or away from one another.
    “Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know. It’s complicated. He might not want to . . . think of me that way, even if he does like me. His sister’s got this no-dating thing.”
    “You like him.”
    “I want to be his friend.”

    “Liar, liar, pumpkin-eater!”
    I cracked up. “Liar, liar, pumpkin eater ?”
    “Pants-on-fire. Whatever. Quit laughing at me or I’m taking you home right now.”
    I laughed harder.
    “The only reason you are in this car is because I felt sorry for you,” said Gwyn.
    It was a joke between us. When Gwyn had moved back to Las Abs last year, she had seen me and remembered about my mom’s death and felt sorry for me.
    “There you were at the track, pretty much daring anyone to come over, looking like the opposite of someone I would have said hi to in Orange County. And me, thinking, oh, what the hell. I’m going to go rattle that girl’s cage. And bestow my everlasting friendship upon her.”
    I snorted.
    “So be nice to me or I am dumping you like last year’s high heels.”
    “Slow down—cops like to hang out here.” I pointed to the speed limit sign as it flashed by.
    “So what did you do with yourself before I came along?” asked Gwyn.
    “I ran a lot.”
    “Yeah, but, you can’t run all day.”
    I laughed. “Can, too!”
    “Wow. So you ran for eight years straight? ‘Til I said hi?” she asked.
    “Let’s just say I know these roads really, really well.”
    “Ma would kill me if I ran the roads around here. You got some kind of death-wish?”
    I looked down.
    “Oh, Sam,” she said, flushing deep red. “I’m sorry.”
    “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that . . . that walking-on-eggshells thing with me.”
    “O-kaaaay,” she said.
    “I mean it. Truly. I like