[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
pletely screwed-up family . . . not yet, anyway.
So what s going on with them? Sophie asked as a shiny
topcoat was brushed onto her now pearly-pink toenails.
They just fight all the time and I really hate that Bijoux
has to hear it.
Sophie smiled, picturing Bijoux s round face covered by
tiny Versace aviators. Your sister is such a brat.
Oh, please it s not like your brother would win any
prizes for Sibling of the Year either. Phoebe threw Sophie a
look that matched the skepticism in her voice, arching one dark
brow as they broke into a mass of giggles.
Sophie rolled her eyes in agreement. I know having him
home again is a total nightmare.
Why did he get kicked out of Exeter anyway?
170
THE ELI TE
Knowing Jared, he probably got the headmaster s wife
pregnant or something, Sophie snorted, holding her feet up
in front of a tiny, whirring fan. Or failed Algebra.
It s so weird, Phoebe mused, I haven t seen him in, like,
two years.
Lucky for you. I have to see his dumb ass every day and
it killing me. How does everyone expect me to adjust? Sophie
whined, crossing her arms over her chest. I mean, he s been
gone forever, and I ve had the place practically to myself. Now
he s back, throwing his stinky kicks everywhere, calling me
bra, eating all my food, and, worst of all, cluttering up the
apartment with his stupid surfing magazines. I didn t even
know he could read.
Ugh, Phoebe moaned as her feet were enveloped in a soft
towel and rubbed dry. You re right it sounds like a night-
mare. I officially have no right to be complaining about any-
thing. I m sorry to break it to you, babe, Phoebe said archly,
but your life is a total disaster.
I know it, Sophie mumbled, slipping her feet into those
delicate paper sandals that were the telltale sign of a girl post-
pedicure. She knew that Pheebs had been joking, but she found
herself wondering if her life really was a disaster right now. . .
and if it might just be getting worse. The fact that she was
adopted certainly answered a lot of questions on her current
home front but what about that other home she had some-
where, the home of her biological mother? With the way things
were going lately, why would meeting her bio-mom actually
change anything? And what if things just got even worse? Even
171
JENNI FER BANASH
if she met her real mom, that didn t mean they were guaranteed
to get along just because they happened to dip into the same
gene pool. Plus, she d be the weird girl with two moms now.
Instead of the boring, totally normal family life she d always
thought she had, she d have this bizarre, fractured family. If she
met her bio-mom and they did get along, her life was bound to
turn into a made-for-TV movie, where she d see her real
mother once a month on Saturdays or something. And what if
her real mother wasn t even single? Then she d not only have a
new mom, but a new stepdad, too. . . Sophie sighed, looking
down at her gleaming toes. She could barely handle the family
she had what made her think she d do any better with a new
one?
As Sophie sat there waiting for her toes to dry, a weird
prickly sensation came over her, and goosebumps sprung up
on her bare arms and legs. As much as she wanted and needed
to think positively about the whole situation, and as much as
she hoped that her real family would make her feel like she
finally fit in, Sophie couldn t help wondering if finally belong-
ing somewhere might just make her feel more like an outsider
than ever . . .
172
love . . .
and
other
bodily fluids
Casey stepped through the revolving doors of the
Guggenheim Museum, rolling around twice before finally
stumbling out into the frigid air of the lobby. She hated re-
volving doors with a passion. The only purpose they served, as
far as she could tell, was to make her feel even more gawky and
uncoordinated than usual. Casey looked up, taking in the gen-
tly sloping floor and multilevel, all-white interior, which spi-
raled up like some sort of bizarre wedding cake. The museum
was so cold, clean, and modern that Casey felt like she was en-
cased in ice as she walked to the ticket counter, pulled out a
twenty-dollar bill Nanna had slipped her from the back pocket
of her much maligned, pink Abercrombie skirt, and handed it
to the cashier.
JENNI FER BANASH
The Guggenheim had one of the largest collections of mod-
ern art in the world, and, amazing as the permanent collection
was, Casey wasn t exactly kung-fu fighting with the revolving
doors on that particular Saturday afternoon due to her undying
love for all things artistic. She was there for two reasons. The
first reason had to do with her mother calling her last night,
specifically to inform Casey of the Kiki Smith retrospective
opening today. When Casey had seemed less than enthused, the
conversation had degenerated into Barbara screaming that it
was her feminist duty to go and get some culture instead of
hanging out with a bunch of brainless, bobblehead dolls, wast-
ing her time on manicures, pedicures, or holistic, new-age
enema cures. Casey didn t know what was worse the echo on
the transatlantic line, the weirdly Madonnaesque British accent
her mother seemed to be developing, or the headache Barbara s
diatribe instantly produced in her skull.
You re less than ten blocks from the greatest modern art
museum in the world! Barbara had shrieked as Casey held her
phone away from her ear so that she wouldn t go sponta-
neously deaf. Take advantage of it! And after a glamorous
morning spent eating dry cereal out of the box and moping
around the apartment, taking in some art didn t seem like such
a bad idea. After all, it wasn t like she had any other exciting
options . . .
The second and most important reason was that Nanna s
apartment had been infiltrated by a gaggle of bloodthirsty old
bats who probably were, at this very moment, gambling like
a pack of drunken sailors on a twenty-four-hour shore leave.
174
THE ELI TE
From the moment Nanna s weekly bridge game with the girls
began, Casey knew that she needed to flee the scene ASAP. The
girls weren t exactly girls at all but a decidedly unruly group
of blue-haired old ladies who promptly took over the apartment
with the force of a tsunami and were, unfortunately, all about
brewing endless pots of tea, munching on chocolate chip cook-
ies from Dean & DeLuca, and asking a ridiculous number of
embarrassing questions.
Do you have a fella, Casey? one frail lady asked, smacking
her lips around her false teeth as she simultaneously shuffled
her cards and poured tea into her mug.
Don t be stupid, Nanna cackled. My granddaughter is
devoted to her studies. She doesn t have time for boys. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
pletely screwed-up family . . . not yet, anyway.
So what s going on with them? Sophie asked as a shiny
topcoat was brushed onto her now pearly-pink toenails.
They just fight all the time and I really hate that Bijoux
has to hear it.
Sophie smiled, picturing Bijoux s round face covered by
tiny Versace aviators. Your sister is such a brat.
Oh, please it s not like your brother would win any
prizes for Sibling of the Year either. Phoebe threw Sophie a
look that matched the skepticism in her voice, arching one dark
brow as they broke into a mass of giggles.
Sophie rolled her eyes in agreement. I know having him
home again is a total nightmare.
Why did he get kicked out of Exeter anyway?
170
THE ELI TE
Knowing Jared, he probably got the headmaster s wife
pregnant or something, Sophie snorted, holding her feet up
in front of a tiny, whirring fan. Or failed Algebra.
It s so weird, Phoebe mused, I haven t seen him in, like,
two years.
Lucky for you. I have to see his dumb ass every day and
it killing me. How does everyone expect me to adjust? Sophie
whined, crossing her arms over her chest. I mean, he s been
gone forever, and I ve had the place practically to myself. Now
he s back, throwing his stinky kicks everywhere, calling me
bra, eating all my food, and, worst of all, cluttering up the
apartment with his stupid surfing magazines. I didn t even
know he could read.
Ugh, Phoebe moaned as her feet were enveloped in a soft
towel and rubbed dry. You re right it sounds like a night-
mare. I officially have no right to be complaining about any-
thing. I m sorry to break it to you, babe, Phoebe said archly,
but your life is a total disaster.
I know it, Sophie mumbled, slipping her feet into those
delicate paper sandals that were the telltale sign of a girl post-
pedicure. She knew that Pheebs had been joking, but she found
herself wondering if her life really was a disaster right now. . .
and if it might just be getting worse. The fact that she was
adopted certainly answered a lot of questions on her current
home front but what about that other home she had some-
where, the home of her biological mother? With the way things
were going lately, why would meeting her bio-mom actually
change anything? And what if things just got even worse? Even
171
JENNI FER BANASH
if she met her real mom, that didn t mean they were guaranteed
to get along just because they happened to dip into the same
gene pool. Plus, she d be the weird girl with two moms now.
Instead of the boring, totally normal family life she d always
thought she had, she d have this bizarre, fractured family. If she
met her bio-mom and they did get along, her life was bound to
turn into a made-for-TV movie, where she d see her real
mother once a month on Saturdays or something. And what if
her real mother wasn t even single? Then she d not only have a
new mom, but a new stepdad, too. . . Sophie sighed, looking
down at her gleaming toes. She could barely handle the family
she had what made her think she d do any better with a new
one?
As Sophie sat there waiting for her toes to dry, a weird
prickly sensation came over her, and goosebumps sprung up
on her bare arms and legs. As much as she wanted and needed
to think positively about the whole situation, and as much as
she hoped that her real family would make her feel like she
finally fit in, Sophie couldn t help wondering if finally belong-
ing somewhere might just make her feel more like an outsider
than ever . . .
172
love . . .
and
other
bodily fluids
Casey stepped through the revolving doors of the
Guggenheim Museum, rolling around twice before finally
stumbling out into the frigid air of the lobby. She hated re-
volving doors with a passion. The only purpose they served, as
far as she could tell, was to make her feel even more gawky and
uncoordinated than usual. Casey looked up, taking in the gen-
tly sloping floor and multilevel, all-white interior, which spi-
raled up like some sort of bizarre wedding cake. The museum
was so cold, clean, and modern that Casey felt like she was en-
cased in ice as she walked to the ticket counter, pulled out a
twenty-dollar bill Nanna had slipped her from the back pocket
of her much maligned, pink Abercrombie skirt, and handed it
to the cashier.
JENNI FER BANASH
The Guggenheim had one of the largest collections of mod-
ern art in the world, and, amazing as the permanent collection
was, Casey wasn t exactly kung-fu fighting with the revolving
doors on that particular Saturday afternoon due to her undying
love for all things artistic. She was there for two reasons. The
first reason had to do with her mother calling her last night,
specifically to inform Casey of the Kiki Smith retrospective
opening today. When Casey had seemed less than enthused, the
conversation had degenerated into Barbara screaming that it
was her feminist duty to go and get some culture instead of
hanging out with a bunch of brainless, bobblehead dolls, wast-
ing her time on manicures, pedicures, or holistic, new-age
enema cures. Casey didn t know what was worse the echo on
the transatlantic line, the weirdly Madonnaesque British accent
her mother seemed to be developing, or the headache Barbara s
diatribe instantly produced in her skull.
You re less than ten blocks from the greatest modern art
museum in the world! Barbara had shrieked as Casey held her
phone away from her ear so that she wouldn t go sponta-
neously deaf. Take advantage of it! And after a glamorous
morning spent eating dry cereal out of the box and moping
around the apartment, taking in some art didn t seem like such
a bad idea. After all, it wasn t like she had any other exciting
options . . .
The second and most important reason was that Nanna s
apartment had been infiltrated by a gaggle of bloodthirsty old
bats who probably were, at this very moment, gambling like
a pack of drunken sailors on a twenty-four-hour shore leave.
174
THE ELI TE
From the moment Nanna s weekly bridge game with the girls
began, Casey knew that she needed to flee the scene ASAP. The
girls weren t exactly girls at all but a decidedly unruly group
of blue-haired old ladies who promptly took over the apartment
with the force of a tsunami and were, unfortunately, all about
brewing endless pots of tea, munching on chocolate chip cook-
ies from Dean & DeLuca, and asking a ridiculous number of
embarrassing questions.
Do you have a fella, Casey? one frail lady asked, smacking
her lips around her false teeth as she simultaneously shuffled
her cards and poured tea into her mug.
Don t be stupid, Nanna cackled. My granddaughter is
devoted to her studies. She doesn t have time for boys. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]