Read Online Andromeda Klein by Frank Portman - Free Book Online Page A

warp and settle oddly. From the outside, it looked a little strange, but the effect was really noticeable inside, where the floors slanted enough that smooth objects tended to slide if not secured. It was also quite small, which meant that the three Kleins’ agenda of staying in separate rooms whenever possible could require some fancy footwork.
    The mom was in the dining room at the computer, which had been moved there from its previous, more convenient location in the kitchen nook on the advice of a television program about Predators. This move had effectively killed the Internet for Andromeda, and at the moment it seemed to be cramping the mom’s style too, which was slightly satisfying: she appeared to be IMing furtively with somebody, and even at a distance it was clear from the strobing monitor that she was riding the Hide button, as though worrying about over-the-shoulder spying. She had her ear-buds in and her butt was chair-dancing slightly. From one position at the top of the stairs, there was a “split-screen” view of part of the dining room and part of the kitchen, where the dad sat on the floor, dismantling the microwave.
    “I can’t get on the network,” said the mom, half turning in her chair. “I can’t get on the network.” Then she added: “I can’t get on the network.”
    “Let me guess,” said Alternative Universe Andromeda. “She can’t get on the network.” Then it added, “I guess the ninjas will just have to slay themselves.” The mom often had trouble with her virtual reality networking games because of the slow speed of the dial-up connection. Andromeda trudged down the short hallway in a slouching manner intended to reflect her state of mind.
    “Oh, not more books!” the mom said.
    As at school and the International House of Bookcakes, the atmosphere at Casa Klein was near tropical, overbearingly hot, with moisture heavy in the air. Andromeda deftly nudged the sliding thermostat down with her shoulder as she walked past it.
    “Your father is destroying another appliance, so if you want to heat something up you’re out of luck.” Everything was quite heated up enough as it was, no oven required. Andromeda had already had a plum baby food and some red whips for dinner in the break room with Marlyne earlier anyway.
    A barrage of complaints and suggestions followed, once the mom was certain she had communicated her inability to get on whatever network she had been trying to get on. Tonight’s lecture might have been entitled: “Vegetarianism as Eating Disorder: The Roots of Adolescent Depression.” Goading Andromeda about vegetarianism was the one thing her parents seemed to enjoy doing together, even though the dad claimed to have once been a vegetarian himself, but he was too preoccupied with the microwave to join in this time. In truth, Andromeda was only a vegetarian every other day, on Saturnine Ring Days, but even on Jovial days she shied away from meat because fat was gross and the smell nearly always made her feel ill.
    “Just having some tea,” said Andromeda, filling the kettle. The water pressure was low, as it had been for the last several weeks, so she had to stand in the mom’s presence for far longer than she would have liked. Nothing ever functioned fully at Casa Klein.
    “Tea, that’s a nutritious meal,” the mom was saying. She went on to complain about the water pressure and to accuse Andromeda of hiding her address book and using her iPod, which had gone missing and finally turned up in the refrigerator. The idea that Andromeda would have any interest at all in the horrible music on the mom’s iPod was almost as preposterous as the idea that she would, for some reason, decide to put it in the refrigerator. The mom’s checkbook had also disappeared and was still missing; again, it was ridiculous to accuse Andromeda. It was doubtful that the checking account had any money in it. And it was a good bet that the mom had already accused the dad of hiding