Crushing On The Wrong Joshua (Crushing on You 3)
“What's so great about this Nelson kid? I know he's a decent basketball player. What else makes him so great?” he asked.
“Dad, if you have to ask, then you'll never know,” Amber sighed as she got out of the truck and walked into the library.
Amber turned back towards the truck remembering she hadn't asked about her dad's meeting.
“How did the meeting with the VIC go?” she asked.
“See my slingo is catching on!” he laughed.
“It's slang, not slingo, Dad,” Amber rolled her eyes with a smile.
“It went well, we're meeting again on Monday. Though I'm pretty sure I've nailed this contract for the next two years,” he grinned.
“That's freakin' awesome!” Amber grinned.
“I'll be doing new logos and maybe even the voice-over for their commercial for prime time television,” he laughed.
“They have voice actors for that, Dad, stick to the design and advertising,” Amber giggled, “I'll see you at home.”
“Be careful walking home, kiddo,” he called as she walked away.
“I will, Dad, promise,” she called back over her shoulder.
She didn't take her usual scenic route, which allowed her to look through her favorite book shelves. Amber headed straight for the study area to work on her math homework. Something kept drawing her attention away from her work and she it unnerved her, mostly because she couldn't figure out what it was. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and Amber gripped her pencil tightly, snapping it into two pieces and splinters.
“Have you brought the book back yet?” the librarian asked.
“No!” Amber shouted, because the older woman had startled her.
“No need to shout in the library, dear,” the older woman chuckled.
“Then don't startle me when I'm trying to do my math homework, okay?” Amber said and slammed the book shut before tucking it under her arm and storming away.
“Sorry, dear,” the librarian called after her.
Amber had only managed to finish half her math work and she knew that she would never be able to concentrate with the creepy librarian standing over her like she was going to shove books down her pants and make a mad dash for the door.
On the way home Amber stopped by the discount and bought two candles. The woman at the register looked at her oddly when she scanned the bar code of the black one.
“It's for a friend,” Amber said, telling another half-lie-half-truth, “It's his favorite color.”
“Goth kid?” the cashier asked.
“Not really, black and green are the colors of his basketball jersey,” Amber said.
“Oh,” the cashier said, “Eight sixty two is your total.”
Amber cringed at the price of just two candles, because it cut into her clothes money. She handed over the money quickly before she could lose her nerve.
“Here's your receipt, Have a great evening,” the cashier said.
“You too,” Amber said, hurrying
out of the store.
Amber's heart raced as she walked the familiar route home. She feared that she would arrive home to find her father's truck parked in the driveway and she wouldn't be able to cast the spell.
“What will I do then?” she asked herself, “Maybe I could do it in the bathroom and tell him I'm soaking in the tub? Would he smell the candles burning? Is it okay to cast spells in the bathroom? Should I do it outside? No, I can't do it outside! What would the neighbors think? Mrs. Harrison would see the tiny flames and call the fire department.”