Secrets in the Shadows (Secrets 2)

terrified him, and he did not make any effort to get off

the scooter.

"What?"

"That's all right. I've got to get home." "Really?"

"You can hold onto the notebook until

tomorrow. I'll come by the cafe and pick them up." He kick-started the scooter.

"I didn't mean to scare you off," I said dryly. "You're not scaring me off. I just don't want to

watch you reading my poems," he added with a note

of belligerence.

I almost threw the notebook hack at him. "If I'm sitting there, you'll feel obligated to say

nice things," he added with a little less anger in his

voice. "I would not. I would say what I believe." "Fine. I'll hear it tomorrow then," he said and

turned the scooter around.

He didn't even say good night. He shot off into the night, the tiny rear light of the scooter looking like a red eye that closed and was gone, leaving me

fuming on the driveway.

He had to be the most infuriating, impolite,

arrogant and annoying boy on the face of the planet, I

thought, not to mention confusing. Why was it

important to him to take me home and then ignore

me?

Aunt Zipporah was right. I didn't need someone

with just as many, if not more, emotional and psychological problems, I told myself. I'm dangling on my

own high wire.

And yet it was just that danger and the danger

that hovered about him that filled me with

disappointment and frustration at his leaving me

standing in the dark driveway.

I gazed at his notebook. No matter how he had

behaved, I was filled with curiosity and interest in

what he had written.