Read Online Silver is for Secrets by Laurie Faria Stolarz - Free Book Online Page B

hairbrush. It was on the left side of my vanity table. Not the right.”
    “Maybe your mom came in and did some rearranging while you were out.” Clara shakes her head. “My parents are visiting some friends of theirs this week.
    It‟s just me.”
    “Al alone?” PJ asks, horns sprouting up on his head. He gets up from the table to fetch a container of mayonnaise and a jar of sour pickles from the fridge. He opens both and sets them in front of Clara as an offering. “Comfort food, my little damsel-in-a-dress.” He glances down to admire her sarong, or more accurately, the juicy thigh that peeks out through the slit. “Trust me,” he says, “a few of these and the world wil seem like a much happier place.” Clara cocks her head at him, like she doesn‟t quite get it. PJ responds by extracting a fat and bumpy pickle from the jar, dunking it into the mayo, and taking a big and crunchy bite. He closes his eyes in sheer delight, like it‟s the best thing since the plate of Mallomars Jacob fixed for me.
    I‟m just about to tel PJ that Clara and I could definitely use some alone time when I see her follow his lead. To my complete and utter shock, she takes out a big green mother of a pickle, dips the entire thing in the mayo, and crunches down.
    “This is actual y pretty good,” she says, smiling for the first time since we‟ve sat down. She double-dunks her pickle and takes another bite, making yummy-good groans the whole time. PJ follows suit—for him the ultimate test of love, I‟m sure—
    sharing the mayo jar.
    “We should real y talk about your room,” I say, forcing the look of horror off my face.
    More groans.
    “Um, Clara?” I repeat in an effort to interrupt the little food-love thing they‟ve got going between them. Clara is looking up at PJ, her runny eyes a little bit calmer than just minutes ago. She smiles at him between crunches, a globule of mayo stuck to the corner of her mouth.
    “Oh yeah,” she says, as though forgetting I was even here. “Sorry.”
    “So was there anything missing?”
    She shakes her head and grabs another pickle.
    “Okay,” I say, racking my brain for something else to ask. If it wasn‟t for my nightmares, for the cold vibrations that came over me when I touched her hand, I probably wouldn‟t even bother. I mean, if I didn‟t know better, I‟d say she‟s completely just looking for attention.
    “Was the door unlocked?” I persist. “Did you notice if any of the windows were left open?”
    “Wel , yeah, I always leave a few windows open to let the air in.”
    “The ones on the first floor?”
    She nods. “There only is one floor.”
    “Right.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
    “I know it sounds al funky,” she says. “But if you knew me, you‟d know that I‟m an extreme neat-freak.”
    “You, too?” PJ asks, accidental y dribbling pickle juice on the table. He attempts to wipe it up with his hand and then licks his fingers.
    Clara eyes the dribble and continues to explain: “I have this thing about putting things in just the right spot. I‟m one of those people who has a place for everything and puts everything in its place—notebooks, top left drawer of my desk; tissue box, top of my desk on the right; gum, in the ceramic seashell bowl on the dresser; white socks, at the front of my sock drawer; blue socks—”
    “I keep an impressive stash of chewy things myself.” PJ looks at her, taking a giant, purposeful bite of pickle. “Care to sample the inventory, my little kosher dil ?” I ignore PJ and keep focused on Clara, on how she‟s chewing on her thumb now.
    “You‟re real y bothered by this.”
    She nods.
    “And you‟re sure you didn‟t maybe just have a bad day and put stuff away in the wrong place?”
    “No,” she sighs. “You don‟t understand.” She takes a deep breath to calm herself down. “My mother is blind. Her whole life is about order, about putting things in just the right spot. If she didn‟t, she‟d never be