Overture (Ambler Elite #1) ★

2. Random Run-Ins

"I'm home!"

I could hear Zoe's announcement all the way from my kitchen barstool, my normal desk for schoolwork. Then a few thumps—her backpack falling on the floor and her shoes flying off—and Mom's exclamation: "Put those in the closet!"

Ah, the sounds of a Tuesday afternoon in the Avery household.

"How was another boring homeschooled day?" asked Zoe, dancing into the kitchen. At thirteen and one year older than me, she looked like me except ten times more beautiful, probably due to her mastery of makeup and hair technique. Those genes had not been transmitted from Mom to me.

"Fine. How was school?"

"Positively awesome." She tossed back some of her chocolate-brown hair—curled today—and pulled one of Dad's muffins out of its container. "Ben and I are going to Homecoming together. Super cute, huh?"

"Oh yeah. For sure." I wasn't a fan of Ben. Zoe knew this. She chose to ignore my opinion entirely.

As Zoe took her first bite of muffin, humming at the goodness, I packed my laptop and notebook into my backpack. "Why are you eating now? Aren't we going to The Rolling Pin?"

"Yeah, but I'm starving. They had soggy tacos for lunch today. Gross. Just wait until you have to deal with Lincoln's menu next year."

Iffy cafeteria food or not, I was beyond excited to go to Lincoln for ninth grade. I'd dropped out of real school in sixth grade and started online classes to fit in more time for dance, but it wasn't working for me. Besides, Paige, Becca, and everyone else at Ambler maintained flawless grades at Lincoln and crazy dance schedules. Especially Jordyn.

"I can't drive you girls," said Mom, rifling through the mail Dad had left on the kitchen counter. "I've got a deadline I need to finish. You can bike there, okay? Ever, I'm leaving US Weekly and Pointe at your barstool for you."

"Thanks."

Zoe and I bustled out into the garage, patting our Pomeranian puppy Mila on her furry head on our way out. I had three hours until class at Ambler and planned on spending it stuffing myself with pastries, lemonade, and The Rolling Pin's super-soft sugar cookies.

Ambler was a small town and I could bike pretty much anywhere, and The Rolling Pin was no exception. Zoe and I were there in fifteen minutes flat. Both of our hair was windblown from the fall breeze as we locked our bikes into the rack and straightened our sweaters.

"Onward," she said, grinning. "There's a slice of cake calling my name."

We walked down the narrow stone pathway, red and orange leaves crunching under our boots. Right at the entrance, in front of the glass door with the chime, I froze.

"Ever? Come on. I'm hungry."

I spun around and started speed walking back down the path.

"Ever? What's up?" Zoe jogged after me, nearly tripping on an uneven stone.

"We've got to pick somewhere else to eat," I said, fiddling with the lock on my bike. "There's a place a few blocks down, right? They have grilled cheese and sandwiches and stuff."

"But I want pastries." Zoe narrowed her eyes. "Why can't we eat at The Rolling Pin?"

"Because Paige and her minions are inside."

"So?"

"What do you mean 'so'? I flipped down the kickstand. "They'll harass me. Especially because Riley's in there too."