WANTED FOR ARSON. CATFISHED AT SANTA'S. ROBBED AT THE FALLS.
SHAKESPEARE OR DIE. DRIVER PICKS TUNES.
I'm weird. This isn't news to me or anything. I have lived
in a UFO my entire life. This wasn't a coincidence. My parents believe in
extraterrestrial life. You know, phone home and all that crap, and they dragged
my sister Mercury and I into their mess when they named us what they named us.
So it wasn't a surprise, when after getting accepted to UW and expressing my
desire to actually attend, they lamented that college is "just another
ploy for the government to keep tabs on you, man." In other words, we
won't be helping you out, Jupiter. That's fine, though, because my best friend
Frankie and I an be pretty clever chicks when we want to be. We found a way up
there and it was in the form of a longtime crush, his equally cute cousin, and
a kickin' set of wheels. Buckle up, Buttercup, it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Exclusive release day excerpt from Get in the Car, Jupiter!
Ezra Brandon’s soul was older than his body. He wasn’t
always like that, though. In fact, at one point not long before what Frankie
and I badged as “the change,” he’d been fully entrenched in activities that
would indicate his soul was exactly the age of that body, but
circumstances being out of his control, the soul tired of parties, friends, and
happiness. He adopted the cynicism of a forty-five-year-old man, threw it on
like an old coat, and buttoned it up to his chin. It insulated him from the
outside world so well that within a year of the adoption, he was forgotten by
everyone at Endicott Academy.
But not by me. No, not by me. He was just as
beautiful to me then as he’d always been.
“You’re drooling again,” Frankie said, startling me. My eyes
popped open. I brought a hand to my lips to wipe away any evidence of her
accusation but felt nothing. Frankie snorted then laughed. I threw a
disparaging glance her way.
“Why you gotta be so rude?” I sang at her.
“’Cause. You’re an idiot. You’ve got zombie face again, and
it’s so obvious people are gonna start wondering if they should intercede on
your behalf. Report your Forrest Gump ass to social services or whatever.”
I laughed. “I can’t help it, Frankenstein. He’s so on the
brink.”
“On the brink of what, Jupiter?” She turned Ezra’s direction
and drank him in. She leaned in close and whispered, “The only thing he’s on
the brink of is a sudden exclamation of ‘What’s it all mean!’ before
jumping headfirst through that window.”
We both looked out the second story toward the looming earth
below and gulped.
I shook my head. “He is not,” I argued.
Frankie pointed toward the front of the classroom where Ezra
was sitting, his hands buried in his chin-length brown hair, knuckles white
with intensity. Maybe she was right. Maybe just a little. I stared at him
again.
Ezra was tall, taller than most guys I knew. Six foot two
inches, one hundred seventy pounds is what his old published lacrosse stats
stated. He had killer light brown hair, eyes so light green you felt like you
could see right through him, and a smile so catching, I could still remember it
despite the fact I, nor anyone else for that matter, hadn’t seen it for almost
two years.
“Life is like a box of chocolates, Jupiter.”
I threw another annoyed look her direction. “Can you please
let me ogle in peace, Lieutenant Dan?”
“No, jackass. The bell rang. Get your rear in gear or you’ll
be late again.”
“Gah!”
My next class was clear across campus. I scrambled to get my
stuff together, decided it was as intact as it was going to get, and hauled ass
up the aisle, but when I turned to complain to Frankie for the thousandth time
since the beginning of our senior year that it wasn’t fair to assign kids
back-to-back classes that far away, I was abruptly halted by the very body I’d
been ogling not thirty seconds before. We collided in spectacular
fashion—papers flying, books crashing. My elbow met his gut, which made him
grunt and double over, which then made his forehead punch my left boob, which
made me die a million mortifying deaths within a second.
“I’m so sorry,” I told Ezra as I felt my face warm to
impossible temperatures. I took a second to glance toward Frankie for some sort
of best friend intervention but only caught a glimpse of her signature
Jupiter’s-a-dweeb facepalm instead.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, his voice like silk, the
inflection of which swam through my head, tingling down each strand of hair all
the way to the ends, and making me shiver.
I watched like an idiot as he bent to gather all my stuff
for me. He stood, handing me the lot, offering a crooked smile when I stared at
him like he was a betta in a bowl.
“Thanks,” I wheezed, taking all that had fallen.
He shrugged, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder, tucking
his own fallen papers and books between his hip and the palm of his hand. “See
ya,” he offered before heading out the door.
Before long, Frankie shouldered me. “Whoa,” she said.
“Whoa,” I agreed.
I hope you enjoyed this exclusive excerpt from Get in the
Car, Jupiter! Happy reading!
Get in the Car, Jupiter on Barnes & Noble!
K.A. Tucker writes captivating stories with an edge.
She is the USA Today bestselling author of 14 books, including Ten Tiny Breaths and Burying Water, and her latest Adult Suspense novel, He Will Be My Ruin. Her books have been featured in national publications including USA Today, Globe & Mail, Suspense Magazine, and Publisher's Weekly.
K.A. Tucker currently resides in a quaint town outside of Toronto with her husband, two beautiful girls, and a Chug.
