Free Perfectly Ridiculous by Kristin Billerbeck Page A

said he’d come back to bring me some candy for the kids and I thought I’d just eat some of that, but I guess he got busy. I gave him some money. I wonder if he had trouble exchanging it.”
    â€œNo offense, but he sounds like a jerk.”
    â€œI don’t think so. Something’s up, but I don’t think he’s a jerk.”
    â€œGirls always say that when the guy’s a dog.”
    I snort a laugh. “Sorry.” I cover my mouth. “But you’re probably right. My background isn’t exactly filled with success stories.”
    â€œNeither is mine, if you want the truth. My girlfriend broke up with me because if I loved her, I would have gone to Arizona State.”
    â€œAnd why didn’t you?”
    â€œBecause I got into Pepperdine. If she loved me, she’d want me to go where I wanted to go.”
    â€œMaybe love is too complicated.”
    â€œNope. It’s women who are too complicated.”
    â€œThat’s how it is too. Guys are never to blame.”
    â€œI’m glad you get it. Where have you been all my life?”
    I slap him in the arm.
    â€œI heard you got the other scholarship. How’d you raise enough money to get down here? My grandmother fronted mine, which isn’t exactly raising capital, but it sounded like such a great opportunity and I thought I could use my Spanish down here, so I signed on as soon as I heard. I already had my local food bank sign off on one week, though.”
    â€œNo way! You work at your local food bank? I do too and already put in a week,” I say, once again over a bite of food. He’s probably thinking I could eat my local food bank.
    The door slams open and Libby is standing there with a flashlight in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.
    â€œJ.C., meet Libby Bramer.”
    â€œJ.C.’s a boy?” Libby rushes into the room and grabs J.C. by the collar. “You’re supposed to be a girl. It says ‘female’ on your paperwork.”
    â€œI don’t think it does,” J.C. says.
    â€œIt must. Or I wouldn’t have approved your application. We have nowhere to house you. All of the rest of the volunteers this session are female.”
    J.C. looks at me. “Should I apologize for being male?” he says under his breath.
    â€œHe shared his sandwich with me,” I offer. It seemed reasonable before I said it.
    â€œDaisy, get in the house. You can sleep upstairs in the loft. Bring your sleeping bag. You’ll sleep out here,” Libby says to J.C. as if he’s some kind of predator.
    Somehow I pictured my first mission experience being more holy than this. I spend my life feeling perpetually in trouble, and the really annoying aspect of this is that I rarely do anything worthy of guilt. I’m feeling troublesome. Like if I’m going to get into trouble anyway, maybe I should just cause it and have the fun to make it worth my while.
    Libby’s not finished with me. “I can’t believe you didn’t come in and tell me. Your parents said they raised you right. You were going to sleep out here? With a boy you don’t know?”
    â€œI was just—”
    â€œNo, no excuses. Get into the house and we’ll discuss this in the morning. I’d like to talk to J.C. alone.”
    With a screech of his chair, J.C. stands up. “No, you have it wrong, Ms. Bramer. Daisy told me I couldn’t sleep here. I asked if I could eat my dinner first, in case the rogue dogs came around. Then I planned to go outside on the porch.”
    Libby crosses her arms. “Well.” She clears her throat. “I’m sorry. I misspoke, but you can understand I can’t have things questioned when parents trust me with their children.”
    â€œNaturally. No reason to be upset. Let me know what I can do to make things run smoother for you and I’ll do it,” J.C. purrs like a kitten. To my shock, it works on Libby.
    â€œGet a