She placed her hand over her chest and released a long breath. “Thank God that’s over!” “I thought we were going to get squashed by that one truck.” Zoe yanked her hands from her eye sockets as if the near-accident had just happened. One truck? Try six or seven before they were able to get off the Interstates. Daddy would kill her if he knew what she and Zoe had done—she wouldn’t need an eighteen-wheeler to do the job. But they were at last back in Bentley, a couple of miles from Zoe’s house where they were supposed to be having a sleepover. The trip was so worth it, though. Zoe’s antics in the malls drowned out all her guilt about Calvin for a while. “So, what are we doing here?” Stacey asked. “This is definitely not a low-cal eatery.” “Don’t worry, I got it covered. Bring your sketchbook.” Zoe jumped out of the Honda—escaping the nightmare—and started toward the door of the narrow yellow building. Stacey grabbed her big purse, with her sketchbook inside, and hurried after her friend.
