Read Online Address to Die For by Mary Feliz - Free Book Online

cereal into a bowl. There’d be time to lecture him on proper mealtime attire another day. Technically, we were still camping.
    â€œRoll up your sleeping bags,” I said. “We’re back in the house tonight.”
    â€œUnless we find another body,” Brian said, grinning. The cheeky little devil dodged the dish towel I threw at him.
    Both boys dressed in record time and climbed in the car with Belle while I grabbed my phone, grocery bags, and shopping list. With no working refrigerator, I was afraid to stock more than a day’s worth of food.
    After dropping David at the high school, Brian and I headed to the middle school, where I parked in the shade. Brian gave Belle a quick pat, made the American Sign Language symbol for I love you —our family code—and dashed out the door.
    I let Belle out the back of the car, attached her leash, and gave her a quick stop-and-sniff moment at a nearby patch of grass. Belle finished her own morning-hygiene routine and tugged on the leash.
    â€œWe’ll walk later, Belle,” I said as I opened the rear hatch. She hopped in. I pulled out my tinted lip balm. Normally, I’d dress up a bit for the first day of school, but this year, grubby jeans and sneakers were my only option. I rolled down the windows to let cool air in for Belle, squared my shoulders, and marched off to the first PTA meeting of the year.
    * * *
    I squirmed on an uncomfortable metal chair and listened to the “Let’s Get School Off to a Good Start” meeting. I’d attended dozens of these back-to-school lectures, but this was the first time I’d been to one outdoors. Late summer and early fall in Stockton were too hot for outdoor meetings.
    â€œThank you for being here to support your students,” said Principal Harrier from her podium. “I’m sure we’re going to have a wonderful year. I’d like to introduce our new teachers . . .”
    Blah-blah-blah. The meeting was the standard drill and I barely listened. By this time in my career as a mom, I could have given one of these presentations myself. My attention wandered off, but I dragged it back to Miss Harrier. I’d met her in February when we’d come to Orchard View to peek in the windows of the house before we had the keys. We’d made appointments ahead of time with both schools to preregister the boys and get their paperwork in order. At the high school, the meeting took all of fifteen minutes, including a tour of the campus.
    In contrast, the middle-school meeting came to a halt when Miss Harrier realized the transfer of the property had not been finalized and we didn’t yet live in the district. I’d convinced her to register Brian anyway, on the basis of the preliminary paperwork I’d brought with me. I’d promised to deliver documentation from Pacific Gas and Electric on the first day of school. Why the gas company had the final word on who went to school where, I had no idea. Bureaucracy seldom makes sense.
    I’d tried to drop off the form before school this morning, but the office had been packed with fidgety adolescents held in check by a diminutive woman dressed in canary yellow from head to toe. I’d decided to wait until she’d solved the kids’ problems before I bothered her with my paperwork.
    Miss Harrier droned on. “I run a tight ship,” she said, slapping the leather cover of her iPad. “The rules are posted. Everyone has a copy. Every student and parent will sign forms stating they have read the rules and will be responsible for them. No excuses will be accepted. That holds true for homework, attendance, and for all forms.”
    This woman should run a military academy. I looked at the other parents and wondered if I could become friends with anyone. I’d already seen and avoided my snooty neighbor who had been shaking hands and passing out his cards this morning. What was it with the people in this town and