Read Online Rules for Stealing Stars by Corey Ann Haydu - Free Book Online Page A

closet, Astrid’s already in my room.
    â€œPriscilla,” she says, a one-word sentence that says more than a whole paragraph could.
    â€œI needed to,” I rush to say.
    â€œYou have to come downstairs,” she says. “Eleanor needs our help. Mom’s roaming, but El needs to get to the birthday party.”
    â€œWhose birthday party?” I say, even though I know the answer. I want her to admit Eleanor does bad things too.
    â€œYou know whose,” Astrid says. “Don’t make it harder, okay? Having a secret boyfriend is making this tolerable for Eleanor. So.”
    â€œThis is making it tolerable for me,” I say, and gesture toward the closet door. Astrid sighs.
    â€œI won’t tell this time.” She twists a silver-blond strand of hair around her thumb and releases it. It stays pin-straight, of course.
    I step closer to my sister. She smells unusual: Like saltand wind. Like the ocean and a roll in a meadow. Like a place we’ve never been.
    I breathe it in deeply, so she knows that I know she’s been in a closet today too.

Eleven
    â€œS he’s unwinding,” Marla says.
    Mom likes to “unwind” before dinner, which means she likes to open a bottle of wine and get the rest of us piled into the TV room to watch the Disney Channel for a while so she can enjoy her unwinding by herself.
    The problem with Mom’s unwinding is that we can’t sneak outside when she’s at the kitchen counter.
    Actually, there are a lot of problems with Mom’s unwinding, but most of them come after.
    Eleanor’s in a green dress, hiding in the downstairs bathroom. The dress cuts low, lower than anything I’ve seen her wear before. I want to put her in the running shorts andT-shirt she wears for soccer, and some muddy sneakers.
    She has a purse. Her hair is curling at the ends. She has lipstick on. No wonder she’s hiding.
    â€œWe can’t interrupt unwinding time,” I say. We are having a sister meeting in the bathroom, with the faucet running hard and the fan making its too-loud noise. I don’t know that any of this actually hides the sounds of our whispering, but we’ve agreed to at least pretend together that it does.
    â€œYou only need to get her out of the kitchen for a minute,” Eleanor says. She’s gripping her phone in one hand and the bottom of her dress with the other. She’s near tears. I don’t like this new side of Eleanor. Eleanor is supposed to be calm and eternally correct and sure.
    â€œDon’t upset Mom,” Marla says. “Can’t you wait until she’s done? She’ll fall asleep when she’s done, probably.” Marla’s wringing her hands and has her Marla-pout on.
    We don’t know when she’ll be done. Unwinding takes anywhere from a half hour to three hours, and there’s no predicting it. There’s no predicting Mom’s moods.
    â€œI’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll distract her.” I want them to look at me the way they did the other day in Eleanor’s closet. Like I am old enough and solid enough to be a full-fledged sister, and not simply The Youngest or The Baby or Silly.
    We concoct a plan where I distract Mom and lead herup to my room. Marla will follow us up there to help out if I freeze and forget what to say and do, but she looks sour about it.
    â€œYou’d never do this for me,” Marla whines. “You’re such a kiss-up.” I hate her voice when it sounds like this. Astrid is the lookout, staying down by the stairs to tell Eleanor when it’s safe to sneak out. She’ll cough really loud to cover the click of the front door closing.
    When we get to the kitchen, Mom’s unwinding with a photo album. I peek over her shoulder. The pictures are of Mom when she was Marla’s age, and another little girl who looks a lot like me.
    I elbow Marla, hoping she’ll see the photos and start asking