Read Online Klepto by Jenny Pollack - Free Book Online

Julie, has your family always lived on Ninety-Ninth Street?” Dad wanted to know.
    “Since I was born,” she said.
    “I hear your dad is in the music business?” Mom said.
    “Yeah, he produces some jazz singers like Judy Coles Harner,” Julie said. “She sings at cabaret places.”
    “Is that right—Judy Coles Harner!” Dad said. “We love her music. We have several of her records!”
    “Oh. Cool,” Julie said politely.
    Then my mom said that she was pretty sure Judy Coles Harner played at the Algonquin once, this really fancy dinner club-type place, but Bernie was too cheap to take her there.
    “Helene,” Dad said, trying to stay calm. “Are you going to start?” This seemed to shut her up because she just glared at him over her forkful of chicken. Dad pretended not to see her expression, and I don’t think Julie noticed. Then Dad launched into a long, boring story about one of the students in his speech class at St. Andrew’s College. You wouldn’t believe the problems with the New Jersey state school system and blah blah blah. I mean, like, did he think we cared? Didn’t they realize my new best friend was sitting at their table eating with my great-grandmother’s good silver?
    Ellie barely said a word, but that was nothing new. We might as well have been watching Tom Brokaw during dinner, which we sometimes did. Why couldn’t they be like other people’s parents? When I went to Kristin’s house for dinner the first time, her dad wanted to know all about my interest in acting and stuff. Kristin nearly died of embarrassment, but I didn’t mind.
    Finally, when Dad’s story ended, Julie asked Ellie what clubs she and her friends liked to go to.
    “What?” Ellie said with a mouth full of salad.
    “What clubs do you like?” Julie repeated, “Like, the Roxy or Xenon, you know. . . .”
    “Um . . . I’m not. . . . I don’t. I don’t really go to clubs,” she said, looking down.
    “Oh,” Julie said cheerfully. “Well what do you like to do?” And then there was this weird silence, and I tried to think of something to say. Julie gave me a shifty look like, Sorry, did I say something wrong?
    “She likes to go to museums,” I blurted out. “She doesn’t really do normal teenage stuff.”
    “Shut up!” Ellie said, getting upset.
    “What?” I said innocently. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
    “You’re just too stupid to understand museums!” she hissed.
    “I’m not too stupid, just too bored! Besides, I like to do things with people in my age group, not with, like, fifty-year olds!”
    “Girls! Girls!” Mom raised her voice. “Come on now, we have a guest. Behave yourselves!” Then we were all quiet for a minute. “Bernie, pass the salad,” Mom said.
    Then I felt Ellie give me a hard kick under the table.
    “Ow! Hey!” I threw my fork at her face, but I missed.
    “All right! Enough!” Dad yelled.
    “You deserved it,” Ellie said. “Trying to act all high and mighty in front of your new friend! Who are you trying to impress? Please! Spare us, Miss Actress!” Then she threw her napkin in her chair, stormed off to her room, and slammed the door. I felt the tears welling up, but I swallowed hard. Julie, my parents, and I sat there in the weird silence again. Mom wiped her mouth with her napkin like nothing had happened.
    “I’m sorry, Julie,” I said under my breath.
    “No, no, it’s okay,” she said, and touched my hand for a second.
    “Honestly,” my mom said, looking at Julie. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with them.” She shook her head like, What a pity.
    “Oh, my sisters and I fight all the time, too,” Julie said, but I knew she was just saying that.
    “Ellie’s just jealous, ’cause she doesn’t have any friends,” I said.
    “Julie, stop—” Mom said, but Dad interrupted her.
    “How ’bout some dessert?” He stood up to clear his plate, taking Julie’s. I stood, too, taking my plate and Mom’s. “We’ve got some nice melon,