Royally Lost (20 page)

Upon entering, the familiar smell of stale smoke and reeking trash filled the air. The television blared in the next room, confirming her aunt’s presence. Libby hoped to sneak upstairs unnoticed.

“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you. We can’t be taking any chances,” the gritty voice of her aunt hollered from the sickeningly sweet smoke-filled living room. “People are getting murdered in their beds every day.”

“It’s locked,” Libby said, resigned. The house was dark, as always. Aunt Marge kept the curtains closed, as if anyone would want to watch a middle-aged woman drink and watch television all day.

“Come in here.”

Libby dropped her backpack at the foot of the steps and dragged her feet as she entered the living room. Aunt Marge reclined in an upholstered chair, her feet on a mismatched ottoman. A dented TV tray served as her coffee table, cluttered with a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of whiskey, and a dirty glass.

“What’s wrong?” her aunt demanded while clenching a cigarette between her thin, stained lips.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, pushing her long hair behind an ear as she tolerated the inspection.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” Aunt Marge’s eyes narrowed. “I hate liars.”

“No, I would never lie to you. I just have a lot of homework.”

She grunted in reply. “There’s groceries on the counter if you’re hungry. Now get upstairs and finish your work. You know I won’t tolerate laziness. You prove to those school people you’re doing just fine. I don’t need them snooping around here again.” She picked up the television remote and started snapping it at the television, effectively dismissing her.

Libby made her way through the cluttered house into the kitchen. On the edge of the counter, next to piles of dirty dishes and old junk mail, sat a torn grocery bag. She began pulling things out. A bag of cheese popcorn, a box of granola bars, a bag of red licorice, and a warm package of sandwich meat. At the bottom she found a six-pack of soda and three candy bars.

She placed the soda and unappetizing sandwich meat on a crusty metal shelf in the refrigerator, grabbed the popcorn and a candy bar, and went upstairs with her backpack. It was always a relief to leave Aunt Marge behind. With any luck, she wouldn’t hear from her again today. Hopefully, she’d drink herself into a stupor and fall asleep in her sunken chair.

Once inside her room, Libby pushed the door shut, closing out the ugliness below. She set her things on the neatly made bed. The worn bedspread featured snags and small tears, but she kept it and everything in the room as clean as possible. She’d given up on keeping the downstairs clean months ago, but here she could keep things the way she liked.

She picked up the small, framed picture of her family. Her mom, dad, and little sister, Sarah, along with a former version of herself, smiled brightly. The photo was taken while on a rafting trip out west two years earlier. Their arms hung comfortably on one another’s shoulders, reminding her of the love they’d shared. Libby traced their faces with her finger and wondered when her dad would come back for her.

She returned the photo to its place on her dresser and moved to the two large windows, raising them a few inches. Cool air blew in, making her room feel better. Outside, across the fields, the rear entrance to the preserve was in perfect view. The spot she’d met Peter. She pulled a chair near the window and propped her book on her lap as she began doing homework, checking too often for Peter and the silver tour bus.

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About the Author

ANGIE STANTON
never planned on writing books—she wanted to be a Rockette. However, growing up in rural America with her brothers’ 4-H pigs as pets, she found that dance didn’t quite work out. Instead, she became an avid daydreamer. After years of perfecting stories in her head, she began to write them down, and the rest is history. When not writing, she loves watching natural disaster movies, going to Broadway musicals, and dipping French fries in chocolate shakes. She lives in Madison, Wisconsin. You can visit her online at www.angiestanton.com.

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Credits

Cover art © 2014 by Dave & Les Jacobs/Getty Images

Cover design by K. Lauren

Copyright

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

Royally Lost

Copyright © 2014 by Angie Stanton

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2013958344

ISBN 978-0-06-227258-4 (pbk.)

EPUB Edition MARCH 2014 ISBN 9780062272591

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FIRST EDITION