Read Online Gingerbread by Rachel Cohn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Cohn
Tags: Fiction, General, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 7-9), Children's 12-Up - Fiction - General, Adolescence, Family - General, Social Issues - Adolescence, Mothers and daughters, Stepfamilies, Family - Stepfamilies, Social Situations - Adolescence
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Beach cool with her surfboard in one hand and Java the Hut latte in the other--decaf probably because of course she would want to maintain a totally mellow vibe at all times, dude. Wouldn't want Little Miss Autumn to harsh anyone's mellow while Cyd Charisse's Pieces is locked away in Alcatraz, breathing onto windows for entertainment.
When I returned from the bathroom, Delia was gone. Shrimp was staring out the huge windows looking as brooding as a Fernando wannabe.
"Where's Delia?" I asked.
"She thought we could use some time alone," he mumbled.
"But I wanted to learn how to dance!" I said. There was so much caffeine and sugar and head-pounding screaming for release in my body, I was ready to be the Lord of the Dance.
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"Cyd," Shrimp said, so right away I knew we were not cool. He usually speaks my name silently, with longing in his eyes.
Some stupid reunion.
"We need to talk," Shrimp said.
Here's one superior feature of Justin's. He was not a sensitive Let's Talk About Our Feelings kind of guy. He was all sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. Sometimes that's a good thing.
"Talk about what?" I asked. I had to burn off the faux energy so I started to pace around the edges of the furnitureless dance studio.
"Us," Shrimp said.
"I can't believe you," I said. The coffee throttle was ready to be let loose from my mouth. "I finally get released from that hellhole called my mother's monster house and you want to 'talk.' Are you breaking up with me cuz if you are then (a) this is kind of a bad time to do it and (b) that is so totally lousy of you to bring me coffee first and be all sweet and fine-lookin' and then turn on me like that."
Math was my best subject at boarding school. The teacher said I excelled at deductive reasoning.
" I'm turning on you ?" Shrimp said. "Hello! You're like a totally different person right now. You're like this dog Curl we adopted when I was a kid. Curl had been in a cage for months and was like this wild monster when he was first released. You're reminding me of Curl now. Your parents have really done a number on you while you've been grounded."
"At least my parents stick around!" I said back as I
65
paced. I instantly regretted my comeback but that's the thing about unkind words: You can try to undo the damage, but (a) it's hard when you're all coffee-ed up, and (b) you can't take it back, ever.
Shrimp's shoulders went into a slouch and he stopped following my pace with his eyes. It was like a tide change so fast we could have evaporated into the Ocean Beach fog rolling in thick and thunderous outside the windows.
How had our reunion gone so wrong, so fast?
There was a silence that lasted too long, broken only by the hard taps of my pounds around the dance floor. When Shrimp finally spoke, he said, "Be still for a minute, would you? You're making me dizzy with all that pacing."
I stopped exactly in front of him. In my sudden stillness, I wanted to etch his face and smell into the memory which I knew was about to be all I would have left of Shrimp. I touched the platinum spike on his hair, then closed my eyes and pretended I was Helen Keller. Helen molded her hands into Shrimp's cheeks and eyes, his lips and nose, to forever retain the shape of him.
"So what now?" I asked, my eyes still closed. The silence had been so nice, but I couldn't play deaf forever.
Shrimp said, "This separation has gotten me thinking. We've been hanging out so much since we met that I've hardly had time to finish a canvas or see my surfing friends or anything. I wasn't sure until just now, but maybe us being apart for a while is a good thing. Maybe your parents aren't as dumb as you think."
"Do you love me?" I whispered.
When Shrimp didn't answer, I let my hands fall to my sides and opened Helen's eyes to the mean bitter world.
66
It was like he didn't even hear my question. Shrimp said, "I didn't realize till you were gone how much we've been crowding each other. I need some time and space for my
When I returned from the bathroom, Delia was gone. Shrimp was staring out the huge windows looking as brooding as a Fernando wannabe.
"Where's Delia?" I asked.
"She thought we could use some time alone," he mumbled.
"But I wanted to learn how to dance!" I said. There was so much caffeine and sugar and head-pounding screaming for release in my body, I was ready to be the Lord of the Dance.
63
64
"Cyd," Shrimp said, so right away I knew we were not cool. He usually speaks my name silently, with longing in his eyes.
Some stupid reunion.
"We need to talk," Shrimp said.
Here's one superior feature of Justin's. He was not a sensitive Let's Talk About Our Feelings kind of guy. He was all sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll. Sometimes that's a good thing.
"Talk about what?" I asked. I had to burn off the faux energy so I started to pace around the edges of the furnitureless dance studio.
"Us," Shrimp said.
"I can't believe you," I said. The coffee throttle was ready to be let loose from my mouth. "I finally get released from that hellhole called my mother's monster house and you want to 'talk.' Are you breaking up with me cuz if you are then (a) this is kind of a bad time to do it and (b) that is so totally lousy of you to bring me coffee first and be all sweet and fine-lookin' and then turn on me like that."
Math was my best subject at boarding school. The teacher said I excelled at deductive reasoning.
" I'm turning on you ?" Shrimp said. "Hello! You're like a totally different person right now. You're like this dog Curl we adopted when I was a kid. Curl had been in a cage for months and was like this wild monster when he was first released. You're reminding me of Curl now. Your parents have really done a number on you while you've been grounded."
"At least my parents stick around!" I said back as I
65
paced. I instantly regretted my comeback but that's the thing about unkind words: You can try to undo the damage, but (a) it's hard when you're all coffee-ed up, and (b) you can't take it back, ever.
Shrimp's shoulders went into a slouch and he stopped following my pace with his eyes. It was like a tide change so fast we could have evaporated into the Ocean Beach fog rolling in thick and thunderous outside the windows.
How had our reunion gone so wrong, so fast?
There was a silence that lasted too long, broken only by the hard taps of my pounds around the dance floor. When Shrimp finally spoke, he said, "Be still for a minute, would you? You're making me dizzy with all that pacing."
I stopped exactly in front of him. In my sudden stillness, I wanted to etch his face and smell into the memory which I knew was about to be all I would have left of Shrimp. I touched the platinum spike on his hair, then closed my eyes and pretended I was Helen Keller. Helen molded her hands into Shrimp's cheeks and eyes, his lips and nose, to forever retain the shape of him.
"So what now?" I asked, my eyes still closed. The silence had been so nice, but I couldn't play deaf forever.
Shrimp said, "This separation has gotten me thinking. We've been hanging out so much since we met that I've hardly had time to finish a canvas or see my surfing friends or anything. I wasn't sure until just now, but maybe us being apart for a while is a good thing. Maybe your parents aren't as dumb as you think."
"Do you love me?" I whispered.
When Shrimp didn't answer, I let my hands fall to my sides and opened Helen's eyes to the mean bitter world.
66
It was like he didn't even hear my question. Shrimp said, "I didn't realize till you were gone how much we've been crowding each other. I need some time and space for my
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