Read Online Out of Order by Robin Stevenson - Free Book Online Page B

that’s how come.”
    â€œWell.” I chew on the swollen inside of my bottom lip. “Thanks. Can I put it in your bag for now?” I scoop up the pile of stolen treasure. I don’t want Mom to see it and ask questions. I don’t want to have to lie to her.
    I avoid Zelia’s eyes. “Dinner’s probably just about ready,” I tell her. “We’d better go inside.”
    Zelia uncrosses her legs and stands in one fluid motion, graceful as a dancer. She pops a stick of gum in her mouth and winks at me. “Don’t want your mom to know I smoke,” she says.
    I’m surprised. I didn’t think she cared what anyone thought.
    In the kitchen, Gran pats my shoulder awkwardly.
    â€œCan I help with anything?” Zelia asks my mom.
    Mom shakes her head. “Thanks, Zelia. It’s all pretty much ready. Gran’s just going to finish setting the table.” She casts her eyes around the kitchen. “Here, you can take the salad to the dining room.”
    Zelia takes the bowl and turns to leave, sniffing the air. “Mmm. It all smells so good, Dr. Keller.”
    Mom is pulling the lasagna out of the oven. Five hundred calories per serving, I tell myself automatically. Eleven grams of fat. I stare at the lasagna and start to salivate. Okay, you can have some salad, I bargain. My stomach growls.
    â€œHere, Sophie,” says Mom. “Would you take the lasagna to the dining room?”
    I take the tray and hold it gingerly in both hands. I can almost taste the cheese, the spicy tomato sauce.
Loser. Fatso.
I conjure the memories deliberately, throwing them like darts at the hunger ballooning inside me. What is wrong with me?
    Through the open window, I hear tires crunching in the deep gravel of the driveway.
    â€œThat must be Patrick,” Mom says, rushing off to get the door.
    I can hear their voices and laughter in the front hall: Patrick apologizing for being late, and Mom telling him it doesn’t matter. Then the kitchen door swings open, and they walk in.
    â€œSophie, this is Patrick. He teaches at the university. Patrick, this is my daughter, Sophie.” Mom looks flustered and anxious.
    I put down the lasagna and shake his hand, a little warily. He doesn’t look anything like my idea of a university professor. I had expected someone old, maybe balding and wearing glasses, but Patrick looks like he might even be younger than Mom. He has short blond hair and is dressed casually in khaki pants and a cream sweater.
    Mom gives me a gentle push. “Let’s get dinner on the table. Gran and Zelia are sitting out there waiting. We can all catch up while we eat.”
    I carry the lasagna into the dining room and sit down beside Zelia. Mom ushers Patrick in and urges everyone to help themselves to food.
    Zelia seems to be fascinated by Patrick. She showers him with questions about his work, and he tells us boring stories about meetings at some university in Germany, presentations he has given, dinners with important people in strange cities. Mom rushes around, breathless and somehow out of focus; Gran is half asleep, her head nodding over the bowl of melting ice cream that she didn’t want but was given anyway.
    Zelia is leaning forward, her fingertips brushing Patrick’s sleeve.
    â€œYour job sounds so interesting,” she says. “I’d love to travel.”
    He flashes her a conspiratorial grin. “Where would you like to go?”
    â€œAnywhere. Anywhere,” Zelia says fervently. “I’ve never been farther than Vancouver. I want to go to—oh—Paris. Rome. Mexico. London. And India. Russia. Anywhere.” Her eyes are an intense blue, fixed on his face.
    â€œCoffee?” Mom is standing in the doorway.
    â€œBlack for me, Jeanie. I’m watching my weight.” Patrick winks at Zelia and me as he pats his flat belly.
    â€œI’ll clear,” I mutter. I pick up my plate of barely touched