Lullabye (Rockstar #6) by Anne Mercier Page B

with Chucks the same color as the sunglasses on her face actually waves at me.
    I ride faster.
    Girls are weird, even pretty ones who can blow the coolest bubbles I’ve ever seen.
    * * *
    After exhausting every ounce of daylight, I start my ride home. Guided by the yellow-orange hue from the streetlamps, I pedal slowly down my street alone. The night’s warm, salt-scented and thick, but the burn from the sun is gone. A cat runs across the street in front of me. Someone’s sprinklers turn on, misting my face as I roll by. I can hear Jeopardy! playing from a television.
    I move my bike impossibly slower as I approach my house, stretching out my last few minutes of freedom. The moving truck next door is gone, swapped with a silver Chrysler. I don’t see any more boxes on the porch, and there’s a wooden plaque above their door that reads The Finnels’ .
    Penelope Finnel.
    Pushing my bicycle up the driveway, the security light above the garage powers on, lighting up my entire yard and some of the one next door. At the same time, Penelope’s dad walks outside, letting the screen door accidentally slam closed behind him.
    He sees me and says, “I’ll have to fix that.”
    “Yeah,” I answer, unsure of what else to say. I lean my bike beside my house.
    My new neighbor rests against his porch post. He has to be over six feet tall with dark brown hair and thick eyebrows that make him look scary. Even from here, lit by the security light only, I can see dark veins in his hands and the massive amounts of fur on his arms. Unlike his wife, he’s lean. Like his daughter, his skin has been touched by the sun.
    “It probably needs a bolt,” he grunts. “Like everything else in this damn house.”
    I think about this for a second and decide to help. “I’m sure my dad has a bolt you can borrow.”
    Pen’s dad looks over at me. His heavy eyebrows come together, like he’s squinting. “That’s a bright light, boy.”
    I nod. “Yes, sir.”
    “I bet it shines right into my room.”
    I look up at his house. Before tonight, every window was dark. Now they all glow, and even though the curtains are closed, I see a few shadows pass by. I wonder which room is hers.
    I hope it’s the one across from mine.
    “I can’t have that light shining in my room, boy,” Pen’s dad says in a deep voice. “Some of us have to be up early.”
    “It only turns on when people walk past it,” I answer. I stick my nervous-sweating hands into my pockets.
    “What about animals?” he asks.
    “We don’t have any animals, sir,” I reply.
    Mr. Finnel laughs loudly, booming amusement into the sticky night air. “I mean raccoons, kid. Cats, stray dogs, possums … Will cats, stray dogs, or possums turn on the light?”
    “Umm…” I start, uncertain if animals will trigger the light. I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to talk to him anymore either.
    Then the screen door opens and slams shut again, and standing beside the light Nazi is Penelope. Her hair is up now, and from what I can tell, she’s not chewing gum anymore. Her knees are dirty, and her shoes are untied. The Discman isn’t on her hip, but her green sunglasses are still on her face, even though it’s nighttime.
    Suddenly, Mr. Finnel’s voice scares me out of my own head. “What are you looking at, boy?”
    Definitely over six feet tall, the daughter Nazi isn’t leaning against the porch post anymore. He’s standing in front of his daughter, blocking my view of her.
    I straighten my spine and speak too loudly, too quickly. “Nothing!”
    He laughs at me again, but his eyebrows are more serious than ever. From behind her father’s arm, Penelope peeks out. I can’t stop looking at her.
    Mr. Finnel’s laughter stops. “See something you like, boy? Do you think I’m cute?”
    “Wha … what … no,” I stutter. My heart stops. The guy hates me.
    Finally, she speaks, soft-spoken and small. “Don’t embarrass me, Dad. You’re so embarrassing.”
    The heart Nazi