A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR Read Online Free PDF Page B

FIVE
     
     
     
    “What do you know,” my sister, Carla, taunted with a grin when I entered the kitchen late that morning, “the queen finally decided to leave her royal bed.”
     
    “I was tired,” I muttered. I still was in fact, thanks to a sleepless night. One brought about by Anthony Carboni. Crossing the kitchen, I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and then walked over to the refrigerator to pour myself some orange juice.
     
    The toaster popped and Carla walked over to grab the two slices of toast sticking up from it. “Sorry I missed your big day.”
     
    Carla and a few of her girlfriends had gone to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. “Believe me,” I said, “you didn’t miss anything.”
     
    “So is Anthony still alive and kicking?”
     
    “Temporarily,” I replied.
     
    She laughed. “You two are so funny. Why don’t you just hook up with him and get it out of your system?”
     
    I choked on the drink of orange juice I’d just taken. “What?”
     
    “Don’t play dumb with me, Gina. You know you want him.”
     
    “You’re crazy.”
     
    “No, you’re crazy – about Anthony. I don’t know why you two just don’t get together, have sex, or whatever it takes to put an end to the constant torture you two put each other through.”
     
    My sister was nineteen, three years younger than me, and giving me sex advice. Great. “For your infor-”
     
    “Gina!” our Aunt Lorna exclaimed as she stepped into the kitchen from the laundry room with a basket full of clean clothes.
     
    I turned from my sister. “Morning, Aunt Lorna.”
     
    She stepped up to me and pinched my cheek. “You took such a good picture.”
     
    “Picture?” I replied in confusion. “What picture?
     
    “The one in today’s paper,” Carla said.
     
    I gasped. “You didn’t say anything about my picture being in the paper.”
     
    “That’s because we were too busy talking about you having-”
     
    “Such a great time at the parade,” I lied, cutting my sister off. I shot her a warning glare and then turned back to my aunt. “Are we talking newspaper?”
     
    “Where else?” she said with a delighted grin. “Your father is so proud of you.”
     
    Carla shoved the newspaper across the table. “Take a look for yourself.”
     
    I did and let out a shriek that shook the kitchen windowpanes.
     
    My father came running into the room in his bathrobe, his cheeks still covered with shaving cream, less one cleanly shaven streak.
     
    “What happened?” His gaze darted around the room. “I heard a scream.”
     
    “Gina’s just freaking out over her picture,” Carla told him as she spread peanut butter across her toast.
     
    Did they expect any less? I had made the paper, fake smile and all, holding a scepter with a gold plated weenie on the end of it. Now everyone who hadn’t made it to the parade the day before knew what the Sausage Queen looked like. Maybe I could make some sort of drastic change to the way I looked, shave my head, or go Goth or something like that. People wouldn’t be able to recognize me as easily that way.
     
    “Your mother was going to pick up extra copies of the paper on her way in to the restaurant this morning. We want to send them out to all our relatives. Come to think of it,” he added, “I should call her to get extras to keep out on the counter at the Casa di Pasta.”
     
    “Oh, good,” I replied, wanting to puke.
     
    “I’d better go finish getting ready for work. After yesterday, we’re bound to be pretty busy.” With a swish of his terrycloth robe, he disappeared down the hallway.
     
    Not only had I been voted in as the festival’s sausage queen, but my mother had won first place in the cook off with her special sauce.
     
    “Now, honey,” Aunt Lorna said as she joined us at the table, “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. Look at the bright side. Being voted queen will give you a leg up with those job interviews you have set up