Peter turned and bent over to close up his tool box. I checked him out while his back was to me. So far, I had only seen him from a distance. He was taller than I thought he would be. Under his oil-stained t-shirt was a fairly attractive build. My eyes lingered on his disheveled blond hair. My instincts were telling me, ‘Look away! He’s a brute! He’s scum!’ but my adolescent hormones were saying, ‘Hmm.’
“Is washing the bus part of your job description?” asked Peter, straightening up.
“Just trying to keep busy,” I said. “With Alan away all day, I was getting bored.”
“My dad had to fly off to a corporate meeting this morning, and won’t be back till late.”
I froze. I hoped Peter hadn’t confused my comment as being some kind of a come-on. The two of us were alone, with no Press around, and no Secret Service to chaperone us.
I dipped my sponge into the soapy bucket. My hand trembled, but not enough that Peter would notice. I stepped up onto the ladder, but holding the sponge in one hand, and the hose in the other, I started to lose my footing.
“Here,” said Peter, “let me help you with that.”
“No-no,” I said. “I can do—”
But before I could finish my sentence, his hands were around my waist, as he hoisted me up to the first step.
“Thank you,” I said. I must have been blushing.
“You know what?” said Peter. “I have something to make your job a lot easier.” He went into his own bus and came back with one of those car-washing gizmos that jets out soapy water through a nozzle. He attached it to the end of the hose.
“Why don’t you relax,” he said. “I’ll do this for you. It’ll go quick.”
While Peter was being the perfect gentleman, I still had my doubts about his sincerity. But I would worry about that later. For now, I could relax while he did my dirty work for me.
It was now early afternoon, and the day was warming up. So while Peter spray-washed the bus, I brought out two chairs and set them in a nice, shady spot. I made up two, tall glasses of ice-cold lemonade. After he finished with the bus, I figured Peter and I would . . .
What was I doing? Okay, he was polite and a pretty good looker, but how could I have so easily forgotten what he did to me all those years ago? Had he changed that much? I had to find out.
Title: The Age of Amy: The Thumper Amendment
Author: Bruce Edwards
Genre: YA Fiction
TEENS Win the Vote!
It’s an election year, and Congress has lowered the voting age to 14. Not one to refuse political involvement, 16-year-old Amy joins a campaign to elect the next U.S. President. Her goal isn’t only to see her candidate win, but to prevent his rival—an arrogant, profiteering sleazeball—from ever stepping foot inside the Oval Office.
Amy’s participation is also personal. The opposing candidate’s son viciously bullied her in the 3rd grade. Foiling his father’s bid for the presidency would be the perfect payback. But, there’s a problem. Her grade school offender has changed. He has grown into a kind and thoughtful (and cute) young adult. No longer able to dislike him, Amy’s hatred turns to affection. Is she falling in love?
Pinnacle Achievement Book Award, “Best Book for Young Adults.”
“Readers will appreciate Amy’s sharp wit and the overall comedy of political theater.”
“This book will be popular with those looking for a quirky love story with an exciting twist.”
–School Library Journal
“The author does a highly credible job of displaying the incredible cost of meanness.”
Bruce Edwards writes young adult fiction on subjects most YA authors shy away from. His award-winning The Age of Amy series explores unconventional topics—from the trappings of modern technology to the absurdity of Washington politics. Through fantasy and imagination, Bruce addresses real-world issues, as young readers enjoy a fun read.
The Thumper Amendment – Video/Info
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