Read Online Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares - Free Book Online Page A

just meant . . . you know . . . you have, like, dark eyes and dark wavy hair?”
    And dark skin and a big butt? Carmen felt like adding. “Right,” Carmen said. “I look Puerto Rican, like my mother. My mother is Puerto Rican. As in Hispanic. My dad might not have mentioned that.”
    Krista’s voice grew so quiet, Carmen wasn’t even sure she was still talking. “I’m not sure if he . . .” Krista trailed off till she was just mouthing words at her plate.
    “Carmen has my height and my talent for math,” her dad piped up. It was lame, but Carmen appreciated it anyway.
    Lydia nodded earnestly. Paul still didn’t say anything.
    “So, Carmen.” Lydia placed her fork on her plate. “Your father tells me you are a wonderful tennis player.”
    Carmen’s mouth happened to be completely full at that moment. It seemed to take about five long minutes to chew and swallow. “I’m okay,” was the big payoff to all that chewing.
    Carmen knew she was being stingy with her little answers. She could have expanded or asked a question back. But she was angry. She was so angry she didn’t understand herself. She didn’t want Lydia’s food to taste good. She didn’t want her dad to enjoy it so much. She didn’t want Krista to look like a little doll in her lavender cardigan. She wanted Paul to actually say something and not just sit there thinking she was a stupid lunatic. She hated these people. She didn’t want to be here. Suddenly she felt dizzy. She felt panic cramping her stomach. Her heart was knocking around unsteadily.
    She stood up. “Can I call Mom?” she asked her dad.
    “Of course,” he said, getting up too. “Why don’t you use the phone in the guest room?”
    She left the table without another word and ran upstairs.
    “Mamaaa,” she sobbed into the phone a minute later. Every day since the end of school, she’d pushed her mother away little by little, anticipating her summer with her dad. Now she needed her mother, and she needed her mother to forget about all those times.
    “What is it, baby?”
    “Daddy’s getting married. He’s got a whole family now. He’s got a wife and two blond kids and this fancy house. What am I doing here?”
    “Oh, Carmen. My gosh. He’s getting married, is he? Who is she?”
    Her mom couldn’t help letting a little of her own curiosity creep through her concern.
    “Yes. In August. Her name is Lydia.”
    “Lydia who?”
    “I don’t even know.” Carmen cast herself upon the floral bedspread.
    Her mother sighed. “What are the kids like?”
    “I don’t know. Blond. Quiet.”
    “How old?”
    Carmen didn’t feel like answering questions. She felt like getting babied and pitied. “Teenagers. The boy is older than me. I really don’t know exactly.”
    “Well, he should have told you before you went down there.”
    Carmen could detect the edge of anger in her mother’s voice. But she didn’t want to deal with it right now.
    “It’s fine, Mom. He said he wanted to tell me in person. It’s just . . . I don’t even feel like being here anymore.”
    “Oh, honey, you’re disappointed not to have your daddy to yourself.”
    When it was put like that, Carmen couldn’t find the appropriate space for her indignation.
    “It’s not that,” she wailed. “They’re so . . .”
    “What?”
    “I don’t like them.” Carmen’s anger made her inarticulate.
    “Why not?”
    “I just don’t. They don’t like me either.”
    “How can you tell?” her mom asked.
    “I just can,” Carmen said sullenly, loathing herself for being such a baby.
    “Are you mad at these strangers, or are you mad at your dad?”
    “I’m not mad at Dad,” Carmen said quickly without taking even a moment to consider it. It wasn’t his fault he’d fallen for a woman with zombies for children and a guest room straight out of a Holiday Inn.
    She said good-bye to her mother and promised to call the next day. Then she rolled over and cried for reasons she didn’t quite