What happens next colleen clayton pdf

Write it on the back of this receipt, I instruct, handing him the pencil and paper. I hold his poles while he writes his guess down. So what if I guess correctly after only two questions? Do I win something? You win the satisfaction of knowing you are Master of the Universal Accent or whatever you called it. Anchor of the Year!

Nah, thats not good enough. I want you to promise to come to a party. My heart jumps. A party? At my roommates uncles condo tomorrow night. We My roommates and I are planning the mother of all blowouts. Bring your friends, roomies, sisters, whatever.

So long as its female and at least half as gorgeous as you. Then he bumps his knee against mine, grins, and says, Just kidding. You can bring your ugly friends, too. Ha, ha, I say dryly, but on the inside Im jumping up and down, screaming, Hooray! No, for real, if I guess right, you have to come. He looks at me and he is not joking. Its a real invite. I start to get panicky as my mind races in circles. I just met this guy. Hes in college. He looks like hes in his twenties. He said roomies, so he thinks Im in college, too.

Holy crap! Somebody pinch me. What do I do? Do I tell him how old I am? That Im a sixteen-year- old junior who rode in on a big yellow bus with the rest of the ski club from Lakewood High?

That I have a curfew and if Im caught breaking it, it means deep shit trouble and a guaranteed suspension? How do I politely decline without looking like a toddler freak? Did I mention that he is hot? Okay, deal. And I say it, not having the slightest clue how I will go about honoring said deal if I lose the bet. I guess Im hoping deep down that hell guess Pittsburgh or Detroit and Ill be off the hook.

All right, here we go. And no cheating by throwing in a fake British accent or something. I nod. Candy, I say, biting down on that first syllable to where it sounds like Kyandy. I am trying to fool him into guessing Chicago. He flips over the receipt. It says, Cleveland Rocks!!! Youre good, I say, looking at him wide-eyed. Yep, all that from the way you said one little word. My favorite flavor peeks out the unwrapped end.

Lime green. He takes the next one, cherry red, and pops it into his mouth. Two-twelve Snowbird Trail. Be there by nine, little girl. My stomach leaps when he calls me little girl. My heart hammers away inside my chest as I look out at the snowy mountain passing below us. I say nothing for the next few seconds as I ponder my unanticipated situation. This is the best-looking guy I have ever seen up close and he is interested in megoofy, loudmouthed Sid Murphy, with my crazy red hair, bubble butt, and obnoxious laugh.

The busty cheerleader who was put on the squad solely to hold up bony-ass princesses like Starsha Lexington and Amber Franks. Always stuck at the bottom of the pyramid while the real cheerleaders dive gracefully from the top like size-zero Christmas stars, right into the arms of good old dependable Sid.

I mean, Im not the girl who reels in the big fish. Im the funny sidekick who gets the leftovers. Ill be there, I say. Dax leans in, smiles mysteriously, and raises one eyebrow.

Youd better come. Remember, I know where you live. Its during the lean-in that I smell itliquor mixed with cherry Life Saver. Oh, my god! Have you been drinking? I ask, laughing. He scrunches up one eye, makes a pinchy little bit motion with his fingers, and then puts a forefinger to his lips. Dont tell the snow patrol. I look behind me at the mountain below.

We arent on the wussy hills anymore. Its a long, long, steep way down. I turn back to him. Are you crazy? Certifiable, he says, then pulls out a flask from his coat pocket, twists off the cap, and takes a long pull of what I can only assume to be hard liquor. Youre gonna kill yourself. Liquid courage, baby, he says, wincing as he swallows another mouthful. Thats the stuff. He holds the flask out to me.

Wanna lil nip? I cant be skiing drunk! Id be maimed! I say playfully, turning my blushing face away from him to hide my shock. I look over at the top of the forest passing next to me. Some free spirit had removed her bra and tossed it up into the top branches of a giant pine tree.

Seventy feet in the air, it clings there, frozen stiff, for the world to see. He continues to work on me. Come on. Itll relax you, improve your game.

Well be doing double diamonds by noon. I eye him suspiciously, then look down at his flask, then back up at his face. God, that face. I cave, take the flask and rock back a tiny sip, and start coughing as the fiery liquid lights up my pipes.

What is that? I sputter, handing the flask back. I beg your pardon, he says, slapping me on the back a few times, and then takes another long drink before putting it away.

Neither of us has realized that the end of the line is fast approaching until the guy running the top of the lift leans out of his control booth and screams, Lift up your bar already! As Dax lifts the safety bar and readies his poles, he says, Thats High Glen single malt scotch youre drinking, aged fifteen years, little missy. Stomach leap.

And with that, he jumps off the lift and slides effortlessly down and around the operators booth. I stumble off and come to a ragged stop at the top of the mountain. Otherwise known as liquid courage!

We spend the whole day together skiing and falling and laughing our asses off. I text the girls and tell them to have lunch without me, that Ive met someone. They text back: Where r u? We want 2 meet him! I turn off my phone and go have lunch with Dax. If they come, theyll ruin things by mentioning high school and asking him his age.

I know I should ask him myself, but the stupid, selfish part of me doesnt want to know. The stupid, selfish part of me doesnt care how old Dax Windsor is because, well, Im having fun with a hot guy for once in my life and screw it, I dont wanna know.

I mean. He buys me a Coke and a burger and we split a tray of chilicheese fries at this ski-in cafeteria place. We talk about his classes and his dickhead roommates and my friends and books weve read, shows we like. I keep my end of it all very vague and noncommittal so he cant pin me down to anything age-related. Around five, it starts getting darker, and I can no longer avoid the fact that I am, indeed, not on a dream vacation with Dax Windsor, Sexiest Man Alive, but on a ski trip with my stupid high school.

I need to check in or theyll send the fun-sucking PTA mom-patrol out hunting for me. Dax makes me promise again to come to his party the next night. He gives me a sweet little peck on the cheekquick, like hes almost embarrassedand then he skis away, saying, Nine oclock. Remember, I know where you live! I text the girls and head back to the condo. Its Saturday evening, and despite my best efforts, I have had zero luck talking Kirsten and Paige into sneaking out with me for the party.

I tried to enjoy the day skiing with them, suffered through black-diamond runs, and nearly broke every bone in my body to get on their good sides. I kept looking for Dax on the slopes, thinking that maybe if the girls actually met him, he could charm them into coming. But its a big resort, and if you dont know where to look, its impossible to find someone. Its dinnertime and I have severe butterflies.

I can barely eat. This is a shame, because the buffet in the main lodge looks and smells like some kind of cinematic food mirage: a sprawling wonderland of animal-shaped breads; a three-tiered fountain of rippling chocolate; a team of smiling, puffy-hatted chef-people.

Its a culinary opus, indeed. Yet none of it appeals to me. I load up my plate and pick, pick, pick, pretending to be interested in Kirsten and Paiges conversation about some boys we go to school with who are staying in another condo, but all I can think about is Dax and the party. I push the food around on my plate and think about how blue his eyes are.

After a while, a roll of bread shaped like a headless bear comes waddling onto my plate. Hello there, Sid. Have you seen my head? It was just here a minute ago. Kirsten is trying to make me laugh. I force a smile. All right, seriously, she says, irritated, tossing the headless bear onto her plate.

You said he goes to college in New York. So lets just forget for a moment that Mr. Perfect lives two states away. I mean, you dont even know the guy. Plus, hes old. Hes probably married with, like, fifty kids. Hes not old-old, I say. And please, like you should talk. Patrick Callahan? I hooked up with Pat when hed just graduated and I was a sophomore.

Hes two years older and Ive known him since elementary school. Your college man is a total stranger. I mean, you look older than sixteen, Ill give you that, but youre still just sixteen.

Your moms cool, but shes not that cool. Paige comes walking back from one of her numerous trips up to the five-star feeding trough. She has a tapeworm, I swear. Also, she doesnt like a messy plate, so she only picks out about two or All her food is sectioned off into neat symmetrical piles on her plate. As she sits down, she catches only the last bit of conversation but instantly knows what were talking about. She shakes out her napkin and lays it gently on her lap.

Shes right, Sid. A college guy? Katherine would freak. Uh, yah. And I mean completely out, Kirsten adds, piercing a grape tomato with her fork and sliding it into her mouth.

I hate to admit it, but theyre right. My mom might let me date a college freshman, but Dax looks older than that. Twenty at least. But I dont care. Maybe hes like me. Maybe he just looks older than he really is. Kirsten spreads some butter onto her headless bear and keeps on talking. There are a ton of guys here from school. Go for Rafe Summers or Joey Thacker.

Both are single and conveniently still in high school. I glare at her. Oh, yes, thats it, Rafe Summers and Joey Thacker. Ill just call them right up. I reach dramatically into the coat hanging on the back of my chair and pull out my cell.

I start banging away at random numbers, concentrating extra hard. Whats old Rafeys number again? Oh, hello there! Is this Rafe Summers? The guy who pushed me off the slide in fourth grade? Split both my knees open? I punch in some more numbers. You know, Sid. The girl you called the Amazon Leprechaun every day of middle school? I shoot Kirsten the dirty eyeball. Along with every awful name he and his friends could think up that contained the word tit. I slam the phone down on the table.

Yes, let me just give them a shout. Paige starts choking on her applesauce, trying not to laugh. Oh, please, that was ages ago, Kirsten argues, also trying not to laugh. And they gave you shit back then because none of them had ever seen an actual live girl-boob yet. And everyone knows redheads are sitting ducks when theyre young. But when guys grow up, they think redheads are hot.

Especially ones with big racks. Thank you, Miss Beauty , I say, settling back into my chair and folding my arms over my ample chest. Then I gesture toward her with my hand. Oh, please. Do go on. Im learning so many new and insightful things about myself.

Sorry, but shes got a point, Paige says. You know we love your crazy red hair, but a redheaded middle schooler with big boobs? Might as well have a target tattooed on your forehead. And since your hair is curly, you were triple-screwed. Then she shrugs.

But guys grow out of that stuff. Eventually, they learn to appreciate the rarer breedsgirls who look different from everyone else. Im seriously going to knock their heads together.

Its like theyve ripped a page from my mothers Puberty Pep Talk Manual and are reading it word for word. Katherine would be so proud.

I sigh and look down at my food while they continue to The puddle of gravy in my volcano of mashed potatoes is starting to form a skin. Also, Paige says, I think it was because you were taller than every boy in the state of Ohio. It made them feel like you could beat them up or something. That means I know what it means! Anyway, theyve caught up with you now.

Then she pauses, scrunches her nose a little. Well, Rafe has, anyway. Thats it, Ive heard enough. I stab my fork into a piece of prime rib, pick up my knife, and start sawing at it like its a fallen tree branch. Kirsten gives me a teasing shove to the head. Come on, lighten up already. I shove the beef into my mouth and carry on talking with my mouth full. I dont care if its piggish.

No boys here like me anyway. Height, boobs, hair? Those are the least of my worries, I say, pointing my fork toward my backside. Presently, its the ass thats the problem. No teenage boy wants to date a girl with a fatter ass than his.

Hold on, girlie. You are not fat, Paige says. Youre voluptuous. I mean, if youre fat, then Scarlett Johanssons a beast. Yeah, youre built big, but in a good way. Like a fifties pinup girl or that plus-size girl who placed third in Americas Next Top Model. Or that chick with the blue hair on Dark Realms.

Shes totally hot. I look at her like shes crazy. She stutters, You know, on, um, Syfy. Velandra, I think her name is? Or Selandra. You have her eyes, come to think of it. Big, green, witchy Medusa eyes. Only her eyes have the power to bewilder. She can stun you into a life of endless stupidity with just one She stops, stumbles, and starts walking it back.

I mean, Ive only seen it once or twice while babysitting the Newman kids. Theyre really into it. And suddenly, she has become deeply interested in removing the lip gloss smudge on her water glass.

I smile. Just blew your cover, gamer girl, I say. For like the millionth time, Kirsten adds, laughing. Im not a gamer! Paige barks. Please, gamer, I say.

Come out of your gamer closet already. Coast is clear. Nobody cares. Oh, I can name two people whod care, Kirsten says. Judge and Delores might call in an exorcist if they found her stash of fantasy novels. Theyd chain her to the bed and chant, Out, demons! I compel you! I cant help laughing. Its true; Paiges parents think fantasy novels and role-playing games are some kind of gateway to devil worship. Like pretending youre a wizard or fairy will turn you crazy in the head, and after too much exposure youll be drinking your own blood and stabbing cats with jeweled daggers.

They think Halloween is the devils birthday and dont have cable for fear of the fantastical creatures that might come charging out. Even superheroes and talking Disney animals are suspect.

Paiges eyes flatten into a glare. Copy in the library:. This one was a little too "after school special" for me, though Corey seemed like a cutie. Loved every moment. It was perfect. Other books by Romance. Red Dirt Heart 4. Hearts of Fire. Give It All. Related articles. The book has been awarded with Ohioana Book Award Nominee 0 , and many others. Please note that the tricks or techniques listed in this pdf are either fictional or claimed to work by its creator.

We do not guarantee that these techniques will work for you. Some of the techniques listed in What Happens Next may require a sound knowledge of Hypnosis, users are advised to either leave those sections or must have a basic understanding of the subject before practicing them. DMCA and Copyright : The book is not hosted on our servers, to remove the file please contact the source url. If you see a Google Drive link instead of source url, means that the file witch you will get after approval is just a summary of original book or the file has been already removed.