Free The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness Page A

cruiser on a dark wooded road known for its night-time activities; “Sandra?” he says on waking, just before his head is removed from his shoulders, not entirely painlessly.

    “But I’ve got German to study,” Meredith says, still protesting from the back seat, holding up her German worksheets.
    “Don’t you like miniature golf?” I say.
    “No one likes miniature golf,” she says. “You don’t like it either. You’re just doing it ironically.”
    “Well, that’s probably true. Henna can’t even hold a club and it was her idea.”
    “I still don’t see why I have to come.”
    She has to come because no one goes out alone any more. Ever since the zombie deer, ever since two indie kids died. Me and Jared only do shifts together at Grillers, Mel claims she needs to study for finals so gets out of all her night hours at the drugstore, and Henna’s off work from the Java Shack anyway because of her arm. My mom is down at the capital more and more for her campaign, so Mel and I take over driving Meredith to her nightly lessons. And prom night (under three weeks away now, tick, tock) with all of us going together is now definitely on, Nathan included and Dr Call Me Steve a late addition, because we don’t think it’s safe any other way. Fun, fun, fun.
    Mel glances in the rear-view mirror. “Quit complaining or we won’t take you to Bolts of Fire.”
    “Mom hasn’t said yes yet, remember?” I say, as Mel pulls onto our little bit of freeway. “And we can still make her say no.”
    “She’ll say yes,” Meredith insists. “I’ve already got the tickets– Oh.” She says the last like she’s revealed too much. Which she has.
    I turn around in my seat. “You want to say that again?”
    Meredith looks panicked, and I can see her brain whirring as she tries to think of an explanation.
    “Meredith,”
Mel warns.
    Meredith sighs in defeat. “I already got the tickets.”
    “When?” Mel asks.
    “How?”
I say.
    “My credit card,” Meredith says, quietly.
    “Your what?” Mel asks, her voice as sharp as a paper cut. Meredith stays quiet. “Mom got you a credit card, didn’t she?”
    “It’s not
mine
,” Meredith says. “It’s linked to Mom’s.”
    “Does it have your name on it?” I ask.
    “Well …
yes
, but–”
    “I don’t believe this,” Mel says with a harsh laugh. “That woman.”
    “You both have
jobs
,” Meredith complains. “I had no way of buying things for myself.”
    “You’re
ten
, Merde Breath,” I say.
    “Don’t call me that. She got tired of always having to input the number for my online music courses.”
    “So she got you your own card,” Mel says. “Because that’s the
most logical solution
to that non-problem.”
    “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
    “I wonder why.” Mel’s voice is angrily light. “God knows she treats us all equally so why would there be any problem?”
    “I’m being really responsible with it.”
    “Bolts of Fire tickets weren’t responsible,” I say.
    Meredith looks shifty. “She won’t get the bill until after the concert.”
    This actually makes both Mel and me laugh out loud.
    “I only had a short time for the fan-club tickets!” Meredith rushes on. “If I didn’t get them then, I’d
never
have got them. Anyway, they came in the mail yesterday.” She smiles like the sun rising. “Three tickets.”
    “Why three?” Mel asks. “You could have just got two. Cheaper. Less trouble later.”
    “You said you’d both take me,” Meredith says. “It’s more fun if we’re all there together.”
    The simple love in the way she says this makes my heart hurt a little bit. Yeah, my parents are crappy, but you hurt either of my sisters and I will spend my life finding ways to destroy you.
    “That’s a pretty big gamble you’re taking on Mom saying yes,” Mel says, already exiting the freeway (told you it was little).
    “She always says yes to me eventually,” Meredith says. “I don’t know why.”
    The