Christine Deriso - Then I Met My Sister
Здесь есть возможность читать онлайн «Christine Deriso - Then I Met My Sister» весь текст электронной книги совершенно бесплатно (целиком полную версию без сокращений). В некоторых случаях можно слушать аудио, скачать через торрент в формате fb2 и присутствует краткое содержание. Жанр: Старинная литература, на английском языке. Описание произведения, (предисловие) а так же отзывы посетителей доступны на портале библиотеки ЛибКат.
- Название:Then I Met My Sister
- Автор:
- Жанр:
- Год:неизвестен
- ISBN:нет данных
- Рейтинг книги:4 / 5. Голосов: 1
-
Избранное:Добавить в избранное
- Отзывы:
-
Ваша оценка:
- 80
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
Then I Met My Sister: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация
Предлагаем к чтению аннотацию, описание, краткое содержание или предисловие (зависит от того, что написал сам автор книги «Then I Met My Sister»). Если вы не нашли необходимую информацию о книге — напишите в комментариях, мы постараемся отыскать её.
Then I Met My Sister — читать онлайн бесплатно полную книгу (весь текст) целиком
Ниже представлен текст книги, разбитый по страницам. Система сохранения места последней прочитанной страницы, позволяет с удобством читать онлайн бесплатно книгу «Then I Met My Sister», без необходимости каждый раз заново искать на чём Вы остановились. Поставьте закладку, и сможете в любой момент перейти на страницу, на которой закончили чтение.
Интервал:
Закладка:
Aunt Nic squeezes her eyes shut and a tear inches down her cheek. “Anyway, I found this. Shannon kept it hidden in her room. Your mom was somewhere else in the house when I spotted it. I started to call out for her, but when I opened it and started reading it …”
“Yes?”
She shrugs. “I just couldn’t show it to her. Maybe I should have. I just … couldn’t.”
The bell on the front door dings. I jump, startled. “Helloooo!” a customer calls.
Aunt Nic inhales deeply, dabs her moist eyes, and kisses me on the cheek.
“The choice is yours,” she says. “Read it if you want, ask me questions if you want, never mention it again if you want … whatever you think. I wouldn’t be giving this to you if I didn’t trust your judgment, Summer. You’re a smart cookie.”
She stands up, but I’m still frozen in my chair, clutching the journal as if it were the Holy Grail.
Then she winks at me. “And hey, knock off for the day. It’s your birthday, for crying out loud.” She walks up front to greet the customer, leaving me alone.
Alone with my sister.
Five
I pull a brush through my hair and glance at my watch impatiently. Where’s Gibs?
I’ve asked him to come over an hour before we’re due at the Japanese restaurant, and he’s late. Well, not late. He still has another six minutes to get here on time. But it feels late.
I’ve moped around all afternoon, lying on my bed and gazing at the same spot in my Spanish book until I got bored enough to move to the den and flick channels mindlessly. Then on to the basement. Then back to my bedroom.
It’s the journal. My head is consumed with a faded lavender book and the black Bic ink that fills its pages.
I put Shannon’s journal on my dresser after I got home from the flower shop. Well, not right away. Initially, I intended to devour the whole thing in one sitting. When I got to my bedroom, I opened it to the first page but never focused my eyes. I flipped a few pages, but my eyes kept skittering away. What was my problem? Maybe this was the same feeling that had kept Aunt Nic from reading it. But how had she resisted? How am I resisting?
And where the hell is Gibs?
I hear Mom’s sing-song voice at the bottom of the stairs. She must have seen Gibs coming up the driveway and opened the door before he could ring the bell. She’s welcoming him in the foyer, complimenting his shirt. He’s unusually neat for a guy with a ponytail. Like the suit during Honors Day. I bet his mom didn’t even have to talk him into it.
I walk downstairs and give him a peace sign. He’s wearing an Oxford shirt, unbuttoned at the collar and tucked into khaki pants. Only Gibs can manage to look preppie and boho at the same time. His face broadens into a shy, sweet smile. God, he looks cute. But it’ll be another five years or so before Gibs figures out that girls dig his smile. I totally get that, so I don’t waste my time even considering a crush.
He clears his throat and wishes me a happy birthday.
“Thanks.”
“Doesn’t Gibson look nice,” Mom says, surveying my faded jeans, flip-flops and hooded sweatshirt to drive home the comparison.
“Mmmm.” I nod toward the stairs. “Basement?” I say to Gibs.
“Yes!” Mom says. “Why don’t you two go down to the basement and enjoy some TV for a while? We don’t have to leave for another forty-five minutes. You want some popcorn?”
I remind her that we’ll soon be eating a football field of rice, along with several tons of chopped steak, shrimp and veggies. No wonder the Japanese are so skinny. They send us all their food.
I pull my hair out from under my sweatshirt as Gibs follows me down the basement stairs. We plop on the brown tweed sofa. I glance at him from the corner of my eye as he settles against the armrest.
I hug a throw pillow against my chest. “I already got one of my birthday presents,” I say, aiming for nonchalant. “My Aunt Nic gave me this … gift.”
He nods politely. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Gibs raises his eyebrows, prodding me along.
Oh, jeez, why be coy?
“My sister kept a journal the summer before she died,” I say. “My aunt gave it to me today. She said, you know, ‘Read it if you want to, don’t read it if you don’t want to,’ so I figure …”
Gibs’ doe-shaped eyes are locked with mine. “Your aunt is just now telling you about it?”
“Yeah. Who would figure—my aunt the florist, woman of mystery.” I finger my chin. “You think I should read it?”
Gibs considers my question.
“Yeah,” he says. “I totally think you should read it.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”
Gibs shakes his head. “Why are we having this conversation? Why is this even an issue? Who could suddenly be presented with their dead sister’s journal and not read it?”
“You’d think, right?” I say earnestly, leaning closer to him. “When my aunt gave it to me, I thought, ‘I’ll lie on my bed for the next four hours reading it cover to cover.’ But it didn’t happen.”
Gibs looks mystified. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. But I should . I should totally read it … right?”
Gibs leans into his elbows. “What’s making this a trick question?”
I sigh and toss my head backward. “I dunno. I’m kinda creeped out.”
Gibs is silent, then says quietly, “I’ll read it with you if you want.”
The sweetness of the gesture catches in my throat. I’ll seriously have to track Gibs down five years from now.
“Thanks, but … I don’t think that’s the solution. I think I have to get inside her head. By myself. You know?”
“Mmm. Don’t be creeped out. It’ll be okay. Maybe it’s filled with recipes, or bad poetry like Priscilla Pratt’s.”
His eyes flicker toward mine for a post-facto sensitivity check.
“That’s kinda what I was expecting,” I say. “But I skimmed it, and … Gibs, it’s like War and Peace or something. Whatever was going on in my sister’s head that summer was weighing on her like a ton of bricks.”
“Then you have to read it. It’ll weigh on you like a ton of bricks if you don’t. Just take it slow, I guess.”
I nibble a fingernail and stare into space. “What if I find out more than I want to know?”
Gibs shrugs. “Then … you’ll know. It’s like science. Not knowing doesn’t make it not so. If there’s something to know, you should know.”
He studies my expression for a moment. “Read it,” he says simply. “Or stick it in the bottom of your sock drawer and forget about it. Me? I’d read it.”
We hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and in walks Mom with a bowl of popcorn.
“Gibson looked hungry,” she murmurs, placing the bowl on the oak coffee table.
I wrinkle my nose.
“Mom, why don’t you ask Gibson what he got me for my birthday?” I tease, and Gibs’ cheeks turn fuchsia. I’m messing with him. It would never occur to him in a million years to get me a birthday present.
“What did you get her?” Mom asks brightly, and now the fuchsia drains from his face, leaving him deathly pale.
“Uh …” Gibs looks at me for a lifeline, but I just grin at him.
He flounders, grasping for words. Then I come to his rescue. “Advice,” I answer. “He gave me advice for my birthday.”
Mom looks puzzled, then smiles. “Isn’t that nice. You must come from one of those families that gives gifts from the heart rather than material things. Things like poems or sketches.”
Gibs winces.
“I think that’s lovely,” Mom says. “You’re so sensitive, Gibson. No wonder you and Summer are such good … friends.”
She walks back upstairs and I sputter with laughter. Gibs buries his head in his hands. “You’re brutal,” he moans.
Читать дальшеИнтервал:
Закладка:
Похожие книги на «Then I Met My Sister»
Представляем Вашему вниманию похожие книги на «Then I Met My Sister» списком для выбора. Мы отобрали схожую по названию и смыслу литературу в надежде предоставить читателям больше вариантов отыскать новые, интересные, ещё непрочитанные произведения.
Обсуждение, отзывы о книге «Then I Met My Sister» и просто собственные мнения читателей. Оставьте ваши комментарии, напишите, что Вы думаете о произведении, его смысле или главных героях. Укажите что конкретно понравилось, а что нет, и почему Вы так считаете.