Read Online House Rules by Jodi Picoult - Free Book Online Page B

couldn‘t. She pulled up in her Jeep Cherokee at 7:00 on the dot. Jacob was waiting for her with a wrist corsage he‘d picked out at the florist that afternoon. He‘d been standing at the window, watching, since 6:00.
    Jess had come over with a video camera to record the event for posterity. We all held our breath as Amanda stepped out of her car in a long peach gown.
    You said she wouldn‘t wear orange, Jacob whispered.
    It‘s peach, I corrected.
    It‘s in the orange family, he said, all he had time for before she knocked. Jacob yanked the door open. You look beautiful, he announced, just like we‘d practiced.
    When I took their picture on the front lawn, Jacob even looked at the camera. It remains, to this day, the only photo I have of him where he‘s doing that. I admit, I cried a little as I watched him extend his crooked elbow to escort his date to her car. Could I have asked for a better outcome? Could Jacob have done a finer job of remembering every lesson we‘d worked on so diligently?
    Jacob opened Amanda‘s door and then walked around to the passenger side.
    Oh no, I thought.
    We totally forgot about that, Jess said.
    And sure enough, Jess and I watched Jacob slide into his usual position in a car, the backseat.
    Theo
    This is it, I say, and my mother pulls the car over in front of some random house I‘ve never seen before.
    When do you want me to come get you? she asks.
    I don‘t know. I‘m not sure how long it‘s going to take us to write up the lab report, I say.
    Well, you have your cell phone. Call me. I nod and get out of the car. Theo! she yells. Aren‘t you forgetting something?
    A backpack. If I‘m doing schoolwork with an imaginary lab partner, I should at least be smart enough to carry a freaking notebook.
    Leon‘s got everything, I say. It‘s on his computer.
    She peers over my shoulder to the front door of the house. Are you sure he‘s expecting you? It doesn‘t look like anyone‘s home.
    Mom, I told you. I talked to Leon ten minutes before we left the house. I‘m supposed to go in the back door. Relax, okay?
    Make sure you‘re polite, she says, as I shut the car door. Please and thank
    You, I mutter under my breath.
    I start up the driveway and along a path that leads around the house. I have just turned the corner when I hear my mother pull away.
    Of course it looks like there‘s no one here. I planned it that way.
    I don‘t have a lab report to do. I don‘t even know anyone named Leon.
    This is a new neighborhood for me. A lot of professors who work at UVM live here.
    The houses are old and have little brass plaques on them with the years they were built. The really cool thing about old houses is that they have crappy locks. You can jimmy them open most of the time with a credit card slipped in the right way. I don‘t have a credit card, but my school ID works just as well.
    I know that no one‘s home because there aren‘t any footprints on the driveway after last night‘s snow something my mother didn‘t notice. On the porch, I kick the snow off my sneakers and walk inside. The house smells like old people oatmeal and mothballs.
    There‘s a cane propped inside the entryway, too. But weird there‘s also a Gap hoodie hanging up. Maybe their granddaughter left it behind.
    Like last time, I go to the kitchen first.
    The first thing I see is a bottle of red wine on the counter. It‘s about half full. I pop the cork and take a swig, and nearly spit the shit out all over the countertop. How come people drink if it tastes like this? Wiping my mouth, I rummage through the pantry for something to make me forget the taste of the wine, and find a box of crackers. I rip it open and eat a few. Then I check out the contents of the fridge and make myself a Black Forest ham and sage-cheddar sandwich on a baguette. No ham and cheese for this house. It‘s even too fancy for good ol‘ yellow mustard I have to use champagne mustard instead, whatever that is. For a second I worry it