Free Replication by Jill Williamson Page A

there? And diapers?
    Did chimps eat cauliflower?
    She exited the barn and circled the perimeter. There couldn’t be more than a ten-foot square room behind that vault door. Not big enough for a lab upstairs.
    Abby huffed, sending a cloud of foggy breath in front of her face. Her nose and cheeks were growing numb. She really wanted to see this underground lab, but Dad would freak if she tried the door and somehow caused a scene. And it was already starting to get dark. The land of the midnight sun wasn’t so sunny in early March.
    Reluctantly, she climbed back into her car and started the engine. Her cheeks tingled as the heat thawed her extremities. She drove home and pulled into her driveway only to find a familiar Ford F–150 sitting in front of her house, the twilight and a plume of exhaust misting its signature cobalt blue.
    JD Kane.
    She slammed her car into park, switched off the headlights, and wrenched up the handbrake. What part of no did JD not understand? They’d made plans to meet in the library tomorrow during lunch to work on their project. But clearly stalker man thought he could do whatever he wanted.
    JD opened his door as she opened hers. Man, he was cute. She shook the wretched thought away as she stepped carefully across the icy driveway.
    “Hi,
friend
.”
    His deep, smooth voice and movie star looks would not sway her. Abby narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here? How do you even know where I live?”
    He grinned that all-American smile. “Steph Abrams works in the office fifth period. She gave me your address—she’s got a little crush on me.”
    Little? According to Kylee, 98 percent of the girls at Fishhook High would pawn their iPods to exchange three words with JD Kane. “And the first question?”
    His eyebrows rose up under his shaggy brown hair.
    “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”
    The grin again. “I thought you were having a study session.” He opened his truck door and reached inside, pulling out a tousled pile of papers. “I found some pamphlets on lupus I wanted to show you. Plus I have this …” He held out a book titled
Genetic Disease
.
    Abby feigned disinterest, but the book was like a magnet. She stepped closer, slipped a bit on the ice, but steadied herself, lest he try to “help” her. “Where’d you find that?”
    “Uh … I think it’s from Amazon.”
    She rolled her eyes. “That’s
not
what I meant.”
    He shrugged one shoulder, the leather sleeve of his varsity jacket crackling in the cold. “My dad’s library. He’s into diseases and stuff.”
    Abby studied his expression. He seemed earnest, but she didn’t buy the fact his dad just so happened to collect books on genetic disease. Either JD had improved his lying skills since biology class, or she wasn’t the only one with an eccentric and scientific father.
    Abby met his eyes and her pulse tripped in the awkward silence. What to do? “I’m not letting you into my house without backup.”
    He shot her a confused—and incredibly cute—expression. Wrinkled brow, partial frown … “Backup?”
    I can’t believe I said that out loud
. She turned away, pulled her phone out of her pocket, and dialed Kylee.
    “Abby?”
    “Hey … when are you coming over?”
    “Today?”
    “Uh … you know. Calculus?”
    “That was just an excuse to avoid going to the game with JD, right?”
    Abby turned to find JD’s eyes roaming where they shouldn’tand tugged the waistband of her parka lower. She whispered, “JD is at my house, and I don’t feel safe … without … you know, a buffer friend.”
    A squeak came through the phone, followed by heavy breathing. Kylee hyperventilating.
    “Kylee? I need you coherent. Please, stay calm.”
    “I’ll be right over.” She sounded like a nervous prank caller.
    Abby shut the phone and crammed it into her pocket. “Kylee will be joining us shortly.”
    JD crossed his arms and leaned back against his truck. “You don’t trust me.”
    “Nope.”
    His mouth