Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

those wrappers." she said. "Now I'll make you some

hard-boiled eggs." She put the pot under the faucet. I gulped some coffee and marched past her. "Cinnamon." she called after me. "Where are

you going?"

"I'm too late to eat breakfast." I shouted back.

"You eat it for me."

I rushed out of the house and to my car. My

wheels screamed and stained the driveway with

rubber as I accelerated. I was sure she had heard it.

When I got to the road. I didn't head directly for school. Instead. I swung around toward Clarence's house and sure enough. I caught him sauntering along. He lived only about a half-mile from the school in the most elegant and expensive area. His house was actually as big as mine. He was surprised when I

pulled up and honked the horn.

"What's up?" he asked after he opened the

passenger door. "I'm not going to school today." I

said.

"Oh?"

"I have something else to do. Want to come

along?"

"Where?"

"Into the city," I said. "Manhattan."

He thought a moment and then looked back as

if someone was watching us. He shrugged and got

into the car.

"I guess," he said.

I shot away from the curb and headed for the

thruway.

"So what do you have to do?" he asked. "And

don't say shopping. I hate shopping. If it's shopping,

let me out. My mother used to drag me like a sled

through the department stores."

"Hardly shopping. I'm going into the city to spy

on my father," I replied.