Read Online Running Lean by Diana L. Sharples - Free Book Online Page A

the pretend galactic battle had become a little too real. Mom called Lizzie’s name three times before the girl snapped, “What?” Somehow Scamp slept through the noise, curled into a tight ball in his bed beside the television. And standing in front of Stacey with one hand on her knee for balance, Emily munched another apple slice, juice and baby saliva dribbling down her chin and glistening on her pudgy fingers.
    “Did you polish that silver platter like I told you to?” Mom asked Lizzie from the kitchen.
    “Mo-om, I’m … on the computer with—”
    “You can get off the computer.”
    “Calvin’s got his girlfriend over. Why can’t I spend time with my friends?”
    “Calvin did his chores this morning. You haven’t started yours.”
    “I’ll do it later.”
    “You’ll do it now. I’m going to yank the plug out of the wall in a moment.”
    “Mom—”
    “Now, Lizzie!”
    Plastic clattered against wood veneer as Lizzie threw the headphones down. Calvin sank into the couch cushion, avoiding Stacey’s gaze. Lizzie had closed herself off from the family since the funeral. Calvin tried to be patient with her, even understanding, but the prima donna act was wearing thin, and he had enough drama to deal with already.
    He looked at the food on the coffee table. Stacey had eaten another apple slice with a thin coating of caramel sauce. Maybe they should go outside with the food and sit in the gazebo at the back of the yard, where it would definitely be quieter. Stacey might complain that it was a little chilly, though.
    Something large—maybe the size of an eight-year-old child—thudded on the floor upstairs. Of the two voices Calvin could hear, muffled by the beams and plaster of their almost historical farmhouse, one of them sounded a bit whinier than the other. Jacob would come downstairs crying soon. The kid cried a lot.
    Calvin took another cookie and shoved it whole into his mouth. He and Stacey hadn’t made specific plans for the day, although she had suggested they go one place or another. Stacey liked to plan things, which was cool with Calvin most of the time. Today he’d just wanted to spend time alone with her. Maybe when Peyton got back home and relieved them of the baby watching duties, they could get in Stacey’s car and just drive around. Maybe end up at the mall in Dawson, or a pavilion at the park in Clarksville, or parkedsomewhere along the Tar River at a spot that would look great in another month. The last one sounded perfect; they could sit on the hood of her car and cuddle the chill away from each other.
    Stacey’s snacking had turned to excruciatingly slow nibbling. Tired of being ignored, Emily toddled up to Calvin’s knee. He picked her up and put her on the couch beside him. A smell reached his nose, more powerful than the baking aromas. His baby sister needed a diaper change.
    And then another more pungent, chemical smell cut through all the others.
    “Ugh. What is that?” Stacey murmured, covering her nose with her sleeve.
    Calvin leaned forward to peer into the dining room. Lizzie sat at the table, making angry little circles with a rag against a lightly tarnished silver platter big enough to hold a Thanksgiving turkey.
    “Silver polish,” Calvin answered. “She should open the back door, let fresh air in here.”
    They hadn’t used that platter last November. At that time, Mom had barely enough energy to heat chicken and noodle soup. Dad recruited Peyton and Calvin to put together a meal, although no one in the house felt much thankfulness that day. Yet it was a turning point for Mom. She became Super Mom from that point on, like her inability to serve her family was a huge personal failure. But when things didn’t go right, she’d revert to a sobbing lump. Easter brunch was going to be a challenge.
    Stacey stood up. “Excuse me,” she said, squeezing between Calvin’s knees and the coffee table. She walked to the steps, probably heading for the bathroom upstairs.