Break My Bones - The Wish Makers, Book 2 (EBOOK)

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Chapter 1
A car with a loud muffler pulled into the parking lot of the Lakeside Drive-In. Only one car in town sounded like that. Brad’s 1980-something Camaro. His baby. I slouched way down in my seat and watched out of the corner of my window as he pulled into a spot across the lot from where Mandy and I were parked. I’d told him I’d be home all night tonight. If he saw me here, he’d be mad. Accuse me of lying to him.
He and his cousin got out of the Camaro and went up to the order window. Brad knew the cook and always ordered at the window so he could say hi. Then he’d let one of the rollerbladed serving girls bring the food to his car. He stayed at the window this time and waited for his order—almost certainly a triple bacon cheeseburger, no onions, and monster-size chocolate cherry malt. Good. That meant he was taking his food to go. A few minutes later with bags in hand, they went back to the car and Brad peeled out of the lot. I watched him drive away and only sat up once he was far out of sight.
I felt Mandy staring at me the whole time. If I had looked, I would’ve seen that frown. The one she wore every time the topic of Brad came up. This time all she said was, “Good thing he doesn’t know my car, hey?”
“Yeah,” I exhaled and closed my eyes, listening for the sound of that engine. Even though I couldn’t hear it anymore, I couldn’t relax. He could come back. I’d left instructions with Mom to call me immediately if he stopped by the house. Lakeside wasn’t that far away, Mandy could have me home in less than five minutes if he was there waiting.
One of the servers rolled up to the car with our food and attached the tray to Mandy's window. The smell of French fries and deep-fried cheese curds swirled in the air around the car and my stomach rumbled.
Mandy smiled as she handed me my mug of root beer, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She was waiting for me to say something, to defend myself. The last thing I wanted was to get into yet another discussion about why I should break up with Brad. I'd heard it many times. Her vote had been registered.
My throat practically cried with relief as the foamy, vanilla and licorice goodness slid down. I pressed the icy mug against my neck. Hottest freaking June in years and our A/C was out. Again. When Mandy called, asking if I wanted to get a root beer at Lakeside, our dinky-town Minnesota version of a Sonic, I jumped at the chance. The ride in her chilly car felt like a reward for being shackled to two five-year-olds and a baby all week.
She held her mug out to me in a toast. “To your first week of babysitting. How was it?”
When I’d first told her about my summer babysitting job, she nearly hyperventilated. She babysat, but one kid at a time. Her cousin. Only for a few hours on Saturday nights. In air conditioning.
“Well,” I said after one more chug, “the baby is easy since he can’t walk yet. I plop him in his playpen in the shade and toss in a bunch of toys.” I spent most of the first week in the backyard with them since it was cooler there than inside my house. “I’m used to bossing my sister around. Jaden isn’t bad. Except he thinks he’s a ninja, or something, ’cause he started taking taekwondo lessons. He hides behind stuff and jumps out at me, standing there in this ‘I can take you’ pose. Scares the carp out me every time.”
“Carp?”
“His mother told me to watch my language around him.”