15
Myla
What a crap day. I need Demon Bars and sleep. In that order.
With that thought in mind, I rush through the Ryder mansion at double speed. If I were a cartoon, fluffy dust clouds would follow behind me. Soon I step out the mansion’s front door. A limo awaits.
Hmm. Not sure how I feel about that.
Don’t get me wrong. For the first weeks after I became the Great Scala, the limo situation was fun. But now? I’d really rather drive myself, thank you very much. Mostly because—if I’m being totally honest—it helps me let off steam. Professional drivers are totally civil and blah. I’m both a demon and nineteen. Driving like a banshee goes with the territory.
Sadly, my own beloved nasty mobile, the lovely station wagon Betsy, is back at my parents place.
Limo, here I come.
I slide onto
