Free The Sleepover by Jen Malone

respond. I know for a fact, which Paige confirmed last night when we played I Never (side note: Why do I remember that and not much that came after?), that she’s only just had her first kiss. Would she really want her second to be with Anna Marie’s bratty kid brother? I’m betting no, nope, and he’s got a better chance of seeing a unicorn in the wild.
    â€œHere are my conditions,” Paige finally says, totally surprising me. “You keep your lips closed at all times, and it lasts no more than three seconds. Four, if you’re very lucky.”
    â€œDone,” agrees Max, fluttering his eyes closed and puckering his lips.
    â€œNot now, dweeb. After we find Anna Marie. How else can I be sure you’ll keep up your end of the bargain?”
    â€œWell, how can I be sure you will?” Max shoots back.
    â€œI guess you’ll just have to trust me,” says Paige, cocking her head again and fluttering her own eyelashes.
    Max sighs and then slowly nods.
    â€œWhatcha want from me?” Veronica asks, stepping closer and bouncing on her heels.
    Max looks down at his shoes and is quiet for a long time. He’s never quiet. His big toe nudges the edge of the step where the carpet is peeling the teeny, tiniest of bits. “Just . . . just be nice to my dad, okay? Since you get to live with him and all.”
    I suck in a breath. I did not expect that one. Veronica just gives her usual shrug. “Easy-peasy. Your dad is the best.”
    Max nods, still examining the rug. Then he stands, turns, and walks up the steps. I almost feel sort of sorry for him, but when he gets to the top, his evil grin is back as he turns and blows a kiss to Paige. “I’ll be waiting, my sweet.”
    Paige pretend gags until the door clicks closed.
    â€œOkay, so I think we bought his silence. We have four and a half hours until our parents show up. Although we could have way less time if Mrs. G. decides to come down and check on us. We need to find Anna Marie superfast,” Paige says.
    Duh.
    â€œWord,” Veronica agrees.
    I fiddle with the strings on the hood of my sweatshirt, pulling them first one way, then the other. I’m trying extra-hard not to think about the fact that we really don’t have any solid clues.
    After a second, Paige reaches out and touches the bottom hem of my hoodie. “Hold on, you guys. Max isn’t the only other person we could ask. Someone else saw us last night.”
    â€œWho?” Veronica asks.
    Paige points to my sweatshirt. “Follow me!” she orders.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Kobe Bean Bryant
    â€œI can’t believe we’re gonna do this,” I say, but no one answers me. Probably because I said it the entire time it took us to change out of our pajamas and tug on our shoes, and also the whole time Veronica tried to convince me to let her draw on an eyebrow using the face paint she brought in case we’d wanted her to teach us how to mime last night. Because “miming is a lost art and the world needs more of us,” she claimed.
    I may or may not have repeated it a few more times as we made our way from the Guerreros’ basement door and around to the front entrance of Anna Marie’s next-door neighbor Jake Ribano. Jake Ribano. I’m still repeating it as we stand on his porch, because I can’t help myself. I really can’t believe we’re gonna do this.
    Veronica pushes her way past me. “Why isn’t anyone pressing the button?”
    Paige and I exchange a look. Veronica lives two towns over. She has no idea whose doorbell she’s about to ring.
    â€œYou just . . . You don’t understand,” I finally say. “It’s. Jake. Ribano. He’s, like, all dark and mysterious, and he’s this loner who skateboards and plays an electric guitar and dresses in all black and wears this skull hoodie everywhere. He’s dangerous. I heard a rumor he called in a bomb threat