Free The Long Ride by Bonnie Bryant Page A

up.
    Lisa cradled the phone.
    â€œAre you making plans with Skye?” Alex asked.
    â€œNot likely,” Lisa said. “He’s so busy with his career that he hardly has any time for a life. But, Alex, even if I do see him, remember, or try to remember, that he’s a friend. He’s been a friend for a long time. He’s never been any more than a friend, or any less. You’re number one on my list, and that’s not going to change.”
    â€œBut you’re so beautiful,” Alex said. “And he’s not blind.”
    Lisa blushed. “I suppose that means you want another kiss,” she teased.
    â€œNo, it means I really want to borrow the Zero Gravity CD for the summer.”
    â€œBut that’s my favorite!” she protested.
    â€œAll the better to remember you by while you’re gone,” he said.
    Lisa smiled and gave in. Love was complicated.

SEVEN
    Stevie checked over her shoulder. In the backseat of the car was a large insulated container. Each container could hold two pizzas. On the front seat, next to her hat, was the list of addresses, in order, where she was to deliver the pizzas. It wasn’t actually a very long list. There was just one address left.
    Delivering pizzas was just about as routine as Stevie had thought it would be. She delivered the pizza, she took the money, she thanked the customer for the tip, she took off her hat and gave her courtly bow, she waited for the inevitable giggle, and then she left. Sometimes the door closed before she bowed, sometimes not. She didn’t have much time to think about that. People expected pizzas to be delivered quickly, whether they were being reasonable or not. Pizzas that were late were also cold, which meant the customer wouldn’t be happy, meant they wouldn’t tip, meant there wasn’t anything funny or not that she could do with her silly hat that would change that. She had a job to do.
    She backed the car down the Applethwaites’ driveway. There was a bump, and then the left rear of the car dropped an unnerving number of inches. Stevie opened her door and looked behind her. The Applethwaites had a little flower garden bordering their concrete driveway. It now had about eight inches less of impatiens than it had had a minute earlier. She closed her door, pulled the car forward, adjusted the wheel, and backed out without inflicting further damage on the pink and white flowers. She had a brief conversation with her conscience about the damage she’d caused. She had two more pizzas to deliver right away. The Applethwaites had only tipped her a quarter, and a quick examination of the flower bed confirmed that she was hardly the first person to make that mistake. She didn’t feel wonderful about her decision, but she decided to go away without saying anything.
    At the next house, she banged into a garbage can and knocked it over as she came into the driveway. It was a rubber one, so it didn’t make a lot of noise, and it was tightly closed, so nothing happened. Stevie righted the thing before she even rang the bell, wondering all the while why the Singers had put their garbage can right in the middle of their driveway. It belonged by the curb.
    The Singers were very grateful for their pizza—two dollars more grateful than the Applethwaites. Stevie was glad she’d put the garbage can back and hoped they would want to order pizza a lot when she was on duty. She made a note to be on the lookout for their garbage can next time.
    This wasn’t complicated, but it was hard work—harder than she’d thought it would be, anyway. She was always rushed, and she wanted to appear unrushed. Mr. Andrews said people liked fast service, not hurried service.
    Stevie returned to the shop for her next set of pizzas. This time there was only one waiting for her. She checked the slip and the order. She’d already learned that sometimes they got mixed up, and if she delivered anchovies