She grabs her backpack, takes the house key off the keychain, and opens the car door, leaving the car on for me.
“If I’m not back in five minutes”—her voice almost cracks and she whispers the next part—“wait longer.”
She’s gone before I can answer. She’s doing somersaults and army crawling, acting a complete fool getting inside in the most extra way possible. She eventually sneaks in through the side gate. I wait for her to be out of eyeshot before I put my hand on my chest and swoon. She had to go and do the spy thing.
I switch to the driver’s seat and wait for her to come back. After a minute, she calls me.
“Did you get the clothes?” I ask.
“No, my dad’s here.” She’s whispering. “I can’t make it up to my room without blowing my cover. I’m going for plan B. I think there’s some clothes in the laundry room.”
She hangs up before I answer. Who does she think she is, Batman?
The front door opens, but Bo doesn’t come outside. It’s her dad. He sits on the porch and starts reading a book. I send Bo a quick text letting her know he’s out front, and I get a thumbs-up in response.
The side gate opens, and Bo starts army crawling along the side of the house. I roll the windows down. If I give her the opportunity, I’m hoping she’ll do some badass leap through the window as I drive off. If she stays low enough, her dad might not notice her passing. But as soon as she reaches the porch, he puts his book down and looks right at her. She freezes. My heart is popping out of my chest, I’m so anxious for her. And for me.
Instead of getting up and trying to talk her way out of it, she bolts toward the car, screaming bloody murder the whole time. She doesn’t slow down when she gets close, which means I’m about to see the sexy-car-chase window leap.
It’s not as cool as I thought it would be. She gets stuck halfway through the window because of her backpack.
“Pull me in, pull me in!” she screams.
I grab her arms and pull, and she scrambles her way into the car. She would have gotten in a lot faster if she used the door. I hit the gas. Not too hard, though. This ain’t my car and I’m not trying to wreck it. I see Rick in the rearview mirror, shaking his head and laughing. At least he’s not mad.
“Woo!” I scream out the window, and laugh. I feel like we’re on a high-speed chase even though I slowed down to five miles an hour to stick my head out the window. Bo doesn’t laugh with me.
“I have some bad news. . . .”
“Shit. You couldn’t get the clothes?”
“Oh, I got clothes, but . . .” She unzips her backpack. There’s one pair of leggings, a huge pair of basketball shorts, and a huge T-shirt. The shorts and T-shirt are clearly Rick’s.
“We’ll make it work,” I say, trying my best to match her drama.
We go to the gas station to change. I take the leggings and the T-shirt. The shirt goes halfway down my thighs. It looks like a dress. Bo wears the school uniform hoodie instead of the uniform shirt, and her dad’s shorts. They’re so big on her she has to tie them at the waist with a hair tie so they don’t fall off. The outfits make us seem a lot shorter than we already are, and we’re both looking a hot mess. But we’re hot messes together.
I’m still hungry, since we didn’t get to eat at the café, so the next stop is free samples at Costco. Since neither of us have memberships, we sneak in with another family, following them close enough that the lady up front thinks we’re with them, but far enough that they aren’t freaked out by us. It’s the perfect plan.
We split up to cover more ground, and for maximum samples. After getting two of every sample around the warehouse, we meet back by the front, both our bags stuffed with free food.