Free Thwonk by Joan Bauer Page B

was
home
; worse than that, Peter was home and not calling me!
    I hadn’t walked Stieglitz. I hadn’t done my homework. I hadn’t figured out what I would say to my parents when, in one hour, they would be landing at LaGuardia Airport, fresh from two fun-packed days and nights in New Orleans. I hadn’t exercised in days; I ran up and down three flights of stairs for thirty minutes, which kept me in the presence of the Nonringing Phone. I curled into a lump, wheezing on the kitchen floor, and wondered if I could get arrested for manipulation. I shook creeping angst from my soul and made the wedding list, keeping it just under three hundred on my side with only eight bridesmaids. Trish called again and said she was just checking the phone line.
    “
Ring!
” I shouted at the blasted phone.
    It did; I yanked it off the wall. “
Hello!
” I shrieked.
    “A.J.,” said the golden voice of my dreams…
    “Speaking…,” I crooned.
    “This is—”
    “Peter…,” I said dreamily.
    “I have to see you,” he nearly shouted. “Something’s happened…I can’t explain.”
    Love is like that.
    “Can I come over, A.J.? Please?”
    “Yes, Peter! I’m free! I live at—”
    “
I know where you live!
”
    Right.
    I kissed the phone.
It was happening!
I ran upstairs to become gorgeous, although with Jonathan’s arrow trick I could probably answer the door in arctic slipper socks and a sack and nothing would deter Peter’s heart. But I wanted to give him a good show when he scooped me up in his arms.
    At least that’s what I thought he would do.
    Succumbed people act normally, right?
    A small knot twisted in my stomach. I put on my lavender sweater that made me look sexy but sincere, and brushed out my hair until it shone and flounced with honesty. Truth seemed to be a recurring theme as I was getting dressed.
    Guilt trickled over me. I’d been anything but honest.
    I’d been selfish, corrupt…
    Jonathan hovered down from the ceiling, eating a carrot.
    “Where…have you been?” I stammered.
    “Observing,” he said gravely.
    Jonathan’s dark, dinky eyes looked right through me. I brushed off my sweater that didn’t need it and looked furtively out the window.
    “Why are you frightened?” he asked.
    “
I’m not frightened!
” I swallowed hard as panic rose in my chest.
    What would Peter do when he got here?
    “You must listen to the things that you try to ignore,” Jonathan intoned.
    I jumped as a honk and a screech sounded on the street. Stieglitz went positively ballistic in his death-to-intruders dance and flashed his jaws. I looked out the window and tingled as Peter’s souped-up Jeep tore up the driveway and
he
jumped out in epic perfection. I felt my kidneys curl. Then my parents’ car pulled up alongside him.
    I closed my eyes; it was going to be an interesting evening.
    There was no time to prepare my parents to meet their future son-in-law.
    “I hope,” Jonathan said solemnly, “that you enjoy the dance.”
    I shuddered and walked downstairs, part of me exulting, the other part nauseous. Peter was introducing himself to my mother, then he shook my father’s hand like he was priming an old pump. I made my big entrance, taking the steps slow because I was shaking. He was wearing a navy-blue turtleneck and brushed jeans—I go crazy for males in turtlenecks. His eyes locked with mine—he was a goner. Stieglitz was barking like a mad fiend, running up and down the stairs, killing the mood.
    “
Stop it!
” I hissed. Stieglitz darted in front of me, I tripped over his hind legs, plummeted three stairs down, and crashed, once again, at Peter’s supreme feet.
    Peter picked me up. “A.J.!” he cried, devastated. “Are you all right?”
    If I’d taken ballet, this never would have happened. I brushed myself off. Stieglitz growled at Peter like he was president of the Dog Catchers Union. Peter gazed at me like a Doberman contemplating sirloin.
    My parents stood rigid in the hall, holding their