Read Online The Truth About Alice by Jennifer Mathieu - Free Book Online

heard voices coming from my room. I headed down the hall and opened it without knocking this time, and I saw Brandon Fitzsimmons sitting on my bed. Standing next to the bed was Alice Franklin. She had this weird, uncomfortable look on her face.
    â€œHey, Elaine,” she said with this little gasp, like she was wishing I hadn’t just walked in on her.
    Then I noticed Brandon was holding a notebook open on his lap, and he was reading from it with a smirk on his face.
    â€œWhen I had to start wearing a bra in fifth grade, my mom told me it was a blessing,” he read out loud in a sing-song voice, like he was trying to sound like a girl. “My butt is pretty round, I know, but I think I look good in clothes.” Then he looked up from the book to my face. “Damn, girl, I know that’s true. But you look good without them, too.”
    Brandon was reading from my diary—the black-and-white composition book I keep under the mattress. Usually. Only I must have left it out or he found it or something because he was reading from it. Out loud. In front of Alice. In front of me.
    My off-again, on-again, off-again guy—the guy I had lost my virginity to—was reading about my fat butt.
    Brandon continued, “I’ve gotten naked in front of the mirror and really looked at myself, and I don’t think I look bad that way either.”
    Oh my God.
    â€œGive me that!” I screamed, and I reached for it, but Brandon grabbed my wrist and wrestled me to the bed. He was so strong he could hold me down with one hand and still keep the open book in the other.
    â€œI know I have big boobs but so do all the women in our family, including my mom,” he read, his eyebrows popping. “Your mom has big tits? I’ll have to look next time!” He was laughing that big, loud, so-sure-of-himself jock laugh that I normally loved but right then made me sick. He tossed the book aside and pinned me down, his hands on my wrists, his knees pressing up along my outer thighs. I couldn’t move if I tried. I’d done it with him here, on this very bed, and that had been nice. Sweet even. But this Brandon was scary as hell.
    â€œLet me check out your big tits,” he said, gasping for air. “You know I’ve seen ’em before.” He was totally, ridiculously drunk. His face was super red, and little drops of sweat were seeping out around his hairline. And Alice Franklin was just standing there next to us like she’d paid to watch a show or something.
    Finally she said, “Brandon, let’s just go.” Her voice sounded really small and embarrassed.
    Brandon looked me in the eyes, and for the tiniest, weirdest second they were just … empty. Like there was nothing there. No emotion, no feeling, nothing. And then a second after that it was like he’d decided I’d bored him or something. He pushed off of me and stood up, the bed bouncing under me once or twice, the coils of my mattress squeaking like mice.
    â€œCome on, Elaine,” he said, his trademark cute football player face returning. “You know I love you, sweetheart.”
    â€œElaine, I’m sorry,” Alice said, and she leaned over and picked up my notebook which Brandon threw on the floor.
    â€œWhat is this?” I said, taking the notebook and motioning at the two of them with disgust. “Eighth grade part two?” Brandon stumbled out of the room, taking Alice’s hand, and she followed him.
    I stayed in my room for what felt like forever, completely and totally too embarrassed to go downstairs. What if Brandon and Alice told everybody what I’d written? I took my diary and jammed it in my closet on the top shelf, hiding it under the box of report cards and school projects my mom had made me keep. I never wanted to see it again.
    I kept waiting for someone to come up and find me, but not even any of my best girlfriends did. I must have nodded off or something because