Read Online The Big Picture by Jenny B Jones - Free Book Online Page A

at Maxine’s odd tone.
    “Yes,” a voice replies in a high-pitched squeak. Aw , how cute, he’s nervous.
    “Do you know George Clooney? I hear he has a villa in Italy.”
    I roll my eyes and round the corner, bringing my date into view.
    “I don’t live in Italy. My grandfather is Ital — Oh, hello. You must be Katie.”
    And unfortunately . . . I am.
    My feet freeze to the floor. The room spins and tilts around me as imminent doom closes in. Doom as in “Luke, I am your father.” Or doom as in the time I presented my book report with my pants unzipped.
    Doom as in Jesus take me now .
    “Um . . .” My palms sweat. “Hi?”
    Before me stands Brian Diamatti, in all his five-foot, double chin, two hundred and fifty pound glory. Dark eyes squint behind glasses as thick as a car windshield.
    He steps forward and grabs my hand to shake. “Nice to meet you in person.”
    My tongue, heavy in my mouth, refuses to move. I can only stare.
    Seriously, God, I’d like to order up one big Rapture. Or maybe one ticket just for me to the Pearly Gates because I’m looking at phase one of my own dating apocalypse right now.
    I look down a full ten inches at this perspiring boy, and take my hand back. “Uh . . . uh . . . nice to . . . meet you.” Forgive me for lying. Sooo lying. “I’m crazy, er, I mean Katie! I’m Katie.”
    He tosses his head back and laughs, the noise coming out in nasally honks. His lips part, revealing oversized teeth held together by shiny braces and crisscrossing rubber bands.
    My eyes laser into Maxine, who for once in her life appears to be speechless. I could strangle her. But what did I expect? I can’t be mad at her for her part in something already so corrupt. I have no one but myself to blame.
    You’re totally laughing right now, aren’t you, God? Great. Thanks. Glad to give you this Holy Knee Slapper moment.
    Maxine clears her throat, her blue eyes still wide as bike tires. “So . . . young man . . . you’re Antonio Diamatti’s grandson?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    Maxine steps closer. “Are you sure?”
    He runs a small hand through his orange hair, not-so-artfully parted down the center. “Last time I checked Papa Diamatti was my grandfather, yeah.” He giggles.
    Silence hangs as Maxine and I both stare and nod.
    Nod and stare.
    I look at her.
    Help me!
    She looks at me.
    I don’t do miracles.
    Maxine clasps her hands behind her back and pastes on a smile. “I’ve seen pictures of your brothers, Brian. You don’t . . . er . . . that is to say . . .”
    “Oh, you mean we don’t look alike. Is that what you’re getting at?”
    Maxine jumps on this. “Yes! Exactly.”
    “Yeah, my nose is a bit smaller than my brothers’, but other than that, we might as well be triplets.” More snorts. “Which is wild because I was adopted from Canada.”
    Maxine’s mouth falls.
    Brian throws up his hands. “Shocking, I know.”
    I nod. “Totally. Unbelievable.”
    Somewhere there has to be a camera on me. Am I on America’s Funniest Home Videos ? A YouTube prank?
    This cannot be real.
    “Well, um . . . I guess you should be going.” Maxine jerks her head toward the back door where, just beyond, James and Millie work in the yard.
    I swallow hard. “You know, I don’t feel so well. I’ve been trying to fight it all day, not wanting to miss this opportunity to spend time with you, but there’s this tickling in my throat and — ”
    Brian grabs my hand and sticks a warm cough drop in my palm. “Probably your allergies.” He sniffs loudly. “I’ve been having lots of drainage too.”
    There is no way on God’s green earth I am walking out that door with this boy.
    “Katie, tonight means so much to me.”
    I can hardly find my voice. “It does?”
    “See . . . my precious Felicity died last week.” He bows his head. “Killed tragically by an out-of-control car.”
    I suck in my breath, shame roiling through my body.
    “She was my everything. I never