16 Things I Thought Were True Read Online Free PDF

to see.” She turns and leaves.
    Mom feebly attempts to boss us around to give the impression she’s in charge, but she tires quickly. “If I were to base my chances on the looks on your faces, I’d be a goner,” she says.
    Jake pushes down the side railing of her bed and sits, making sure he doesn’t sit on any tubes. Josh doesn’t move from where he’s standing, his shoulders hunched over.
    â€œYou’re going to be fine,” Jake says. “If there’s a blockage around your heart or anything, they’ll take care of it right away. We’ll have this done and get you rested and back on your feet,” he says as if he knows it all now. He stands and walks to the window and stares out of it.
    â€œI guess things happen for a reason,” she says, looking at Josh.
    That’s her favorite saying. Things happen for a reason. Well, that and “pass the wine, would you please, sweetie.” She loves her wine, that’s a fact. I hope at least one of those will change.
    Josh attempts a smile but looks lost. The whole scene feels like an awkward segment of a reality show. It would be nice to tell someone to turn off the camera. Mom fades back into her blankets. “I’m dying for a cigarette,” she says.
    â€œIf you’re not careful, you’ll mean that literally,” I tell her.
    She sighs. “You’re right.”
    I move closer to her side. “I’m going to get you Nicorette gum. You have to quit smoking, like, yesterday. No heart attacks allowed.”
    She nods, and I know she’s definitely scared. The boys and I have been asking her to quit smoking for years. Even Jake’s late-developing asthma didn’t stop her.
    â€œBoys,” she says. “I want to talk to Morgan. Go get something to eat. You must be starving.” She’s probably right, because they’re always hungry, but I remember I haven’t had anything to eat besides one or two French fries on my embarrassing break, hours ago now. Josh and Jake mumble, and I watch them disappear from the room with a little dread and a little resentment.
    When they’re gone, she reaches out her hand. I move beside her and stare at the steel thing on her finger that looks like a splint. It’s connected to a tube that runs to a machine.
    â€œI think I knew this was coming,” she says. Beeps and other noises from the machines hum in the background. “I’ve been having dreams.”
    I don’t ask what kind. She’s always believed she has psychic abilities through her dreams. She loves to describe them and analyze the meaning. In excruciating detail.
    â€œYou’ve always been the strong one in this family,” she says to me.
    I watch a monitor as it beeps out her heart’s rhythm. “Me? I’m not strong.”
    â€œYes, you are, Morgan. You’re stronger than the boys. You’ve had to be.” She sighs, and for a moment, her silence is deafening. This is not the usual script. She doesn’t let go of my hand, and I barely resist an urge to pull away from her. She squeezes it. “I always hated it when my parents pried into my life when I was a teenager,” she says, “but you know you can always come to me.”
    I gently pull my hand away, pretending to have a scratchy arm.
    â€œI did silly things too, Morgan. Everybody does. If there’d been camera phones around when I was younger.” She whistles, and I glance away and her gaze follows mine, and we both stare outside the tiny window at mist creeping up a red brick wall. “Honestly, I expected Lexi to be a better friend,” she says. My jaw clenches tight, and I close my eyes to keep out the images of me in underwear. Dancing.
    â€œMe too,” I whisper and close my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to feel so incredibly guilty about what happened with that video.
    It’s quiet except for the whirs and beeps in the room, and