I expect her to at least crack a smile the way she normally does when Dad pokes fun at her Type A personality, but she just grabs the rest of our things and locks the car. I guess now is not the time to bring up how crazy-face Mom has been getting since Dad left. At least she’ll have other people’s houses to psychotically organize from now on.
When we reach the carved wooden front door, I suddenly feel super self-conscious in my ratty jeans and faded sweatshirt.
“Holy fish tacos, Mom. How do you know these people again?”
“My boss is friends with Mr. Riley. They play golf together.”
Wait, Riley? I spot a gold plate by the door with The Riley Residence carefully etched across it. My stomach goes cold.
“Do the Rileys have a daughter?” I whisper.
Mom’s face lights up. “That’s right! I forgot Briana was in your grade.”
Oh. My. Goldfish. Briana Riley. I scanned Mom’s list of cleaning clients before we left the house. How did I not notice Enemy #1’s name on it? I have to get out of here. If Briana sees me like this, it’ll be even worse than the Troy fiasco. That whole mess gave Briana enough ammo to use against me for months.
But before I can move, the door swings open and a guy about my age smiles back at us.
“Hi there!” Mom says in the chipper voice she uses to answer phones at the law office where she works. “I’m Amanda Lee, and this is my daughter, Rachel. We’re here to make your house spotless!” She lets out a little laugh that sounds like a hysterical chipmunk.
I expect him to at least raise an eyebrow at the idea of Mom and me being related, since we look nothing alike, but he just says, “I’m Evan Riley. Come on in.”
“Is your mother here?” Mom asks as she files into the foyer. I scurry after her, keeping my eyes down. I just have to get in and out of here without making a fool of myself.
“I’m the only one home,” says Evan. “But I think she left a list in the kitchen.”
“Great! We’ll start there,” Mom chirps.
Holy fried onion rings. I can’t believe I’m in Briana Riley’s house! And this has to be her twin brother. I’ve heard he goes to a private school for geniuses. So far, he seems a million times nicer than his sister. No one’s ever mentioned how cute he is.
The minute the thought goes through my head, my face ignites. Why can’t I even think a guy is good-looking without getting embarrassed about it? Of course, Evan isn’t as cute as Steve Mueller. No one is. Steve Mueller is the hottest guy in the eighth grade, probably in our whole town. Unfortunately, as of a couple months ago, he’s also Briana Riley’s boyfriend.
“Rachel, come on,” Mom calls, already down the hall.
I realize I’m still standing in the foyer, staring at Evan with my mouth open and practically drooling on myself.
He looks back at me with an uncertain smile. I can’t help noticing that his eyes are the same shade of green as his Celtics jersey. “Are you okay?” he asks.
I try to nod and move forward at the same time, but that just makes me lose my balance. I stumble forward and—
Crash!
The mop and broom fly out of my hands and land on the floor, followed by several bouncing rolls of paper towels.
“Booger crap!” I cry, stooping to gather everything up. Wait, did I just say that out loud?
“Here, let me help,” says Evan. As he kneels beside me, I catch the scents of peppermint and laundry detergent. “Did you just say booger crap?” he adds.
I nod, mortified. Why do Dad’s goofy swears always have to pop out of my mouth at the worst times?
But Evan laughs as he gets to his feet, his arms full of paper towels. “That’s funny. I think I might have to use that sometime.”
I try to say “okay,” but for some reason it comes out in slow motion. “Ohhhhkaaay.” This is even worse than the one time I tried to talk to Steve Mueller!
Evan just laughs again, in a way that makes me think he isn’t laughing at me. He grabs one of the rolls of paper towels and balances it on top of his head as he walks alongside me. I can’t help smiling.
When we get to the Rileys’ kitchen, I almost drop everything all over again. Every surface gleams like it’s covered in nonstick cooking spray. If we had this kind of kitchen at home, I’d be able to bake all the time without Mom complaining that I’m taking up too much space. I mean, they actually have three ovens!
“Thank you, Evan,” says Mom, rushing to take the cleaning supplies from him. “We don’t want to be in your way, so just pretend we’re not here.”
He shrugs. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything. Don’t worry about cleaning in there today.” Then he glances at me and flashes a crooked grin. “See you later, Booger Crap.”
Great. Perfect. Just the kind of nickname you want a guy calling you.
Ten minutes on the job, and I’ve already made a total fool out of myself. At this rate I won’t even survive until lunch.
Catch up on Jenny the Adventurer’s escapades in the first two books of the series!
You know all those stories that claim fairies cry sparkle tears and elves travel by rainbow?
They’re lies. All lies.
Jenny has spent the past three years as an official adventurer. She travels across enchanted kingdoms saving magical creatures and fighting horrible beasts that most of you think are only myths and legends. She’s never had a social life. Here friends have all forgotten her. And let’s not even talk about trying to do homework. So—she’s done!! Jenny is ready to go back to being a normal girl. But then along comes “Prince Charming” asking for help, and, well, what’s a girl supposed to do?
I know what you’re thinking:
“Can she talk to animals?”
Yes, those chatty woodland creatures won’t shut up.
It’s not as cute as you’d think.
Jenny has a new mission in the Land of Tales (the crazy place all fairy tales come from) to face off with an evil witch and complete Three Impossible Tasks. Easy, right?
And this time, the stakes are even higher. Jenny’s parents disappeared in the Land of Tales, and she’s certain that if she can save the kingdom, she’ll be one step closer to finding her family.
Being an adventurer is no fairy tale, but this is one mission Jenny can’t fail.
My Sort of Fairy Tale Ending Page 13