Read Online Under My Skin by Judith Graves - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judith Graves
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nitty-gritty details? Tell him, I’m flunking physics and I found out werewolves are terrorizing the town and my only friend is trying to exterminate them? Not unless I wanted a tête-à-tête with every psychologist from here to Toronto.
“That good, eh?” Marcus and Sammi exchanged a look.
Sammi rolled her finger in the air like a movie director as if prompting Marcus to keep up the conversation.
“About dinner. What do you feel like tonight?” Marcus asked, sniffling a bit. “Italian?” He held up a box of pasta, rattling the contents. Then he heaved in a breath and let out an enormous sneeze.
“Goodness.” Sammi patted him on the arm.
“There I go again,” Marcus said with a laugh, swiping at his puffy eyes. “I swear it’s as if I’m allergic to you, Eryn. Same thing when I met your mother.”
I grimaced. Unfortunately, that was true. Marcus was allergic to dogs. Poor guy, I’d been setting him off ever since I moved in, even though I tried to keep my distance.
I gave a weak laugh. “Probably our shampoo. Dad hootched up a special formula for Mom and me.”
“Whatever formula it is”—Sammi reached up to pat my thick, dark locks, but dropped her hand abruptly as if remembering my anti-hug reaction—“it’s fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such beautiful, healthy hair. Have you, honey?”
When Marcus didn’t say anything, Sammi elbowed him. Hard.
“No, I have not.” Marcus glared at her and rubbed his ribs. He looked at me. “Your hair is very pretty, so don’t mind me. I know beauty comes at a price.” He held a finger under his nose to hold off another sneeze.
I mentally sighed. They were always like this. Trying too hard. They meant well, but I wasn’t sure I could keep up happy family pretences tonight. My talk with Brit had left me raw.
“If Italian doesn’t appeal, how about we check out that new Chinese place downtown?” Sammi said, the wide smile pasted on her face again. The restaurant was right beside Polly’s Pet Emporium. I couldn’t eat there without gagging over the memory of last night and Ethan’s all-you-can-eat bunny buffet.
I put a hand to my stomach. “I don’t feel very good.” Not a complete lie. My stomach had been in knots since my doomsday chat with Brit. “You guys do whatever and if I feel up to it, I’ll fend for myself later.”
Didn’t I always?
I took a step forward, forcing Sammi to lean back into Marcus. That gap in the hall was all I needed to escape up the stairs.
“Your luggage finally arrived from the airport,” Marcus called after me. “It went all the way to Montana before they tracked it and shipped it here. I picked it up at the bus depot this morning. One bag, right? It’s on your bed.”
“Thanks.” Halfway up the stairs I turned and looked down at them.
Marcus had his arm around Sammi’s shoulders. They presented a united front of concern, and confusion about how to handle this strange girl they’d been asked to care for. I almost went back downstairs.
Then Marcus released another deafening sneeze.
So I kept climbing…one stair at a time.
In my room, lime green walls closed in on me like a fly slowly being digested alive by one of those creepy Venus Flytrap plants. If that wasn’t scary enough, my bed, complete with heart-shaped pillows and eye-popping, daisy print comforter, looked more conducive to an epileptic fit than an invitation to snooze. No wonder I hadn’t been sleeping.
Then I saw it. There in the middle of the bed. A little bit of home.
I hopped onto the springy mattress and hugged my suitcase. The suitcase I thought I’d lost forever, shipped off to Tunisia or some other exotic destination. I’d have felt really dumb if Paige had walked into my room at that moment, but in my world, luggage was okay to hug. It didn’t have any expectations.
I’d wrapped a green headband around its handle so I would recognize it on the airport’s baggage-conveyor-belt thingy with so many similar
“That good, eh?” Marcus and Sammi exchanged a look.
Sammi rolled her finger in the air like a movie director as if prompting Marcus to keep up the conversation.
“About dinner. What do you feel like tonight?” Marcus asked, sniffling a bit. “Italian?” He held up a box of pasta, rattling the contents. Then he heaved in a breath and let out an enormous sneeze.
“Goodness.” Sammi patted him on the arm.
“There I go again,” Marcus said with a laugh, swiping at his puffy eyes. “I swear it’s as if I’m allergic to you, Eryn. Same thing when I met your mother.”
I grimaced. Unfortunately, that was true. Marcus was allergic to dogs. Poor guy, I’d been setting him off ever since I moved in, even though I tried to keep my distance.
I gave a weak laugh. “Probably our shampoo. Dad hootched up a special formula for Mom and me.”
“Whatever formula it is”—Sammi reached up to pat my thick, dark locks, but dropped her hand abruptly as if remembering my anti-hug reaction—“it’s fantastic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such beautiful, healthy hair. Have you, honey?”
When Marcus didn’t say anything, Sammi elbowed him. Hard.
“No, I have not.” Marcus glared at her and rubbed his ribs. He looked at me. “Your hair is very pretty, so don’t mind me. I know beauty comes at a price.” He held a finger under his nose to hold off another sneeze.
I mentally sighed. They were always like this. Trying too hard. They meant well, but I wasn’t sure I could keep up happy family pretences tonight. My talk with Brit had left me raw.
“If Italian doesn’t appeal, how about we check out that new Chinese place downtown?” Sammi said, the wide smile pasted on her face again. The restaurant was right beside Polly’s Pet Emporium. I couldn’t eat there without gagging over the memory of last night and Ethan’s all-you-can-eat bunny buffet.
I put a hand to my stomach. “I don’t feel very good.” Not a complete lie. My stomach had been in knots since my doomsday chat with Brit. “You guys do whatever and if I feel up to it, I’ll fend for myself later.”
Didn’t I always?
I took a step forward, forcing Sammi to lean back into Marcus. That gap in the hall was all I needed to escape up the stairs.
“Your luggage finally arrived from the airport,” Marcus called after me. “It went all the way to Montana before they tracked it and shipped it here. I picked it up at the bus depot this morning. One bag, right? It’s on your bed.”
“Thanks.” Halfway up the stairs I turned and looked down at them.
Marcus had his arm around Sammi’s shoulders. They presented a united front of concern, and confusion about how to handle this strange girl they’d been asked to care for. I almost went back downstairs.
Then Marcus released another deafening sneeze.
So I kept climbing…one stair at a time.
In my room, lime green walls closed in on me like a fly slowly being digested alive by one of those creepy Venus Flytrap plants. If that wasn’t scary enough, my bed, complete with heart-shaped pillows and eye-popping, daisy print comforter, looked more conducive to an epileptic fit than an invitation to snooze. No wonder I hadn’t been sleeping.
Then I saw it. There in the middle of the bed. A little bit of home.
I hopped onto the springy mattress and hugged my suitcase. The suitcase I thought I’d lost forever, shipped off to Tunisia or some other exotic destination. I’d have felt really dumb if Paige had walked into my room at that moment, but in my world, luggage was okay to hug. It didn’t have any expectations.
I’d wrapped a green headband around its handle so I would recognize it on the airport’s baggage-conveyor-belt thingy with so many similar
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