Read Online The Theory of Everything by Kari Luna - Free Book Online

potatoes—when Dad showed up, threw it all on the floor and announced that we were going out for Indian food instead.
    â€œGrab your coats!” he said while I stood next to Mom, tears in my eyes, wishing I could trade a thousand nights of naan for just one of those potatoes. Dad opened the door and put on a top hat.
    â€œLet’s go, ladies! Adventure in the city awaits!” he said.
    I held Mom’s hand tighter, a silent plea to let me stay. She stood firm.
    â€œThanks but no thanks, Angel,” she said. “Sophie and I feel like staying in.”
    Dad looked confused, but then dashed out like a superhero, oblivious to the pool of tears and perfectly good pot roast he’d left behind.
    â€œNothing a little extra spice can’t fix,” Mom said, and picked up our dinner off the floor. She rinsed what she could, added things from glass shakers and threw it back in the oven.
    â€œThis is not how you’ll cook when you’re older,” she said, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to waste a good dinner. I spent three hours in here.”
    She rarely cooked, and I knew it, so I didn’t mind if the stuff she said was pepper was actually dirt. It tasted good, even without Dad. Even though that was the first night of many where there were two at the table instead of three.
    |||||||||||
    â€œCan you set the table?” Mom said.
    â€œSure.” I grabbed the napkins and headed for the coffee table.
    â€œHow was school?” she called from the kitchen.
    â€œEducational,” I said. I folded the napkins in little paper squares like at a restaurant.
    â€œThat’s not what your principal said.”
    And there it was. She
never
took an afternoon off. Especially not to cook.
    â€œWhat did she say?” I asked. “Did she mention that I’m a scintillating conversationalist?”
    â€œNot exactly.” Mom walked into the living room and wiped her hands on her apron, staining her front with red sauce. “The other night, you told me you weren’t seeing things.”
    â€œI’m not,” I said. “Just sometimes.”
    â€œOkay,” she said. “We’ll deal with that later. Just tell me what happened today.”
    â€œThe cafeteria ladies covered a Ramones song.”
    â€œAnd?” She tapped her bare foot on the carpet.
    â€œEveryone danced like a music video, and I got excited and dove into a table and some girl’s cottage cheese,” I said. “It was no big deal.”
    â€œYou almost got suspended,” she said. “It was a very big deal.”
    I didn’t know I’d almost been suspended. I didn’t know what the night would hold, much less next week, because I didn’t trust myself. Or Mom. I’d seen it before. She was the spa weekend, the tree skirt, the calm. Which was always followed by the storm.
    â€œMeat loaf!” Mom said as the timer dinged.
    Meat loaf, I thought, wishing that normal food could help me live a normal life.
    |||||||||||
    I cleared the plates, and Mom said something she’d never said before.
    â€œI think you’re grounded.”
    I grinned. Discipline wasn’t her forte. She was better than Dad, but after he left, she wasn’t mean to me because she thought I’d met the meanness quotient for a lifetime.
    â€œYou
think
I’m grounded, or I’m actually grounded?” I said.
    â€œVery funny,” she said as I took our dishes to the kitchen. The cell phone she’d given me the week earlier buzzed in my pocket.
    â€œSophie? We’re not finished here,” Mom said, her voice booming from the other room.
    â€œJust a sec,” I said, looking at the screen. I’d never been happier to have a phone—or a text—in my life.
    DREW: Café Haven? Monday?
    Wow. Not even a hello? Just straight to asking me out? Maybe he wasn’t into texting, which was fine. I wasn’t either. So we’d keep it