Meg Cabot

Meena Harper knew things, things no one else knew … things no one could know.

One of those things was that the man sitting in the car beside her was going to die.

There were also many things Meena Harper did not know.

One of those was how she was going to break the news of this man’s impending death to him.

“Meena,” he said, gazing at her profile. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you. It’s funny that you called. I was just thinking of you.”

“It’s great to see you, too,” she said.

This was a lie. It wasn’t great seeing him. How was she going to tell him? Especially when he looked so terrible. He smelled terrible. Or maybe it was the inside of his car. She couldn’t figure out what the smell was.

“I was thinking of you, too,” she lied some more. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She looked around the dark, narrow street. She felt guilty for telling him all these lies, including that this was the street where she lived, then saying he couldn’t come up because her roommate’s parents were visiting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get a cup of coffee?” she asked. “There’s a place right around the corner. It would be much nicer than sitting in your car.”

Especially considering the smell. And what she had to tell him.

“I’m sure,” he said, smiling. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”