We roll past a gigantic flatbed tow truck, pulsating with flashing yellow lights. The Lexus is moving up the rear ramp like a gaffed whale. Josh and I look back and see Zak’s flatted VW still leaning on the fence like a giant blue Frisbee. I say, “Totaled.” Josh whispers, “Oh yeah.” A flash of lighting illuminates the crumpled bumper and the Endless Summer sticker. It reminds me that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, our trip to Florida. I push into the plush leather seat and sing softly under my breath, “Surf City, here I come. Surf City gonna have some...” cookieblakelymystery.blogspot/2013/08/chapter-thirty-two-operation-cookie.html
Posted on: Thu, 22 Aug 2013 09:14:10 +0000
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