All the Things We Didn't Say Read Online Free PDF Page A

Steven turned ten and announced that if he didn’t win a Nobel Prize by the age of 20, he was going to enlist in the Special Forces. My father laughed and reminded Steven how clumsy he was-he’d probably shoot himself in the hand while trying to clean his gun. The Schnoz disbanded pretty much after that.
    When he got older, Steven went to Stuyvesant High, the smart math and science school in the city. My mother didn’t ask if I wanted to take the test to go to Stuyvesant. My parents had a huge argument about it-my father said Stuyvesant was the best place for me, but my mother insisted that Peninsula was better because it encouraged the liberal arts. ‘But she’s not interested in liberal arts!’ my father bellowed. ‘She likes science! She won three elementary and middle school science fairs at St Martha’s!’ My mother rolled her eyes. ‘We should let Summer choose for herself,’ my father bargained. ‘She’s going to Peninsula,’ my mother said. ‘End of story.’
    Even though my father was right-I wasn’t that into art or history or English-I liked Peninsula fine. And anyway, girls who went to Stuyvesant were nerds who never got boyfriends. Everyone knew that.
    â€˜Do you want a soda?’ I asked Steven, turning for the fridge.
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜We still have the orange stuff Mom bought for you.’
    â€˜Mmm.’ His pencil made soft scratching sounds against the paper.
    â€˜It looks like you’re running out, though. But Mom will probably be back in time to buy a new case.’
    He kept writing. Steven had hardly said a word about her since she’d left, so I didn’t know what I thought I was going to achieve, fishing. Steven had hardly spoken to her anyway, except to ask if she could wash a load of his whites. He probably didn’t even care that she was gone. Although, was that possible? Yes, she and Steven were very different-she was so glamorous -but Steven had to have some thoughts about it. Just one teensy feeling, somewhere.
    â€˜Summer, there you are.’ My father appeared in the doorway. ‘I have a favor to ask you.’
    He led me to the living room, and we sat down on the couch. ‘Mrs Ryan just called. She wanted to know if I could tutor Claire in biology.’
    I stiffened, surprised. I’d looked for Claire at school today but hadn’t seen her anywhere. ‘You said no, right?’
    â€˜I said I was too busy.’
    I tried not to laugh. Lately, my father’s version of busy was piling magazines for recycling and watching the home shopping channels-he liked the old people that called in. He probably hadn’t even gone to the lab all week.
    My father picked up one of the little plastic figurines from the toy ski slope he’d bought on a trip to Switzerland. It came with four little Swiss skiers, each with a blanked-out, stoic Swiss expression. Steven had been obsessed with the ski slope when my parents brought it home, but it had become more of a Christmas decoration. Last night, on the walkhome from dinner, there were suddenly fairy lights on our neighbors’ banisters and Christmas trees in their front windows. It made our naked, untended-to tree in the living room seem so obviously neglected, so I went down to our basement storage space, found the Christmas box, and brought everything up myself-the ornaments, the Santa knick-knacks, the ski slope, even old holiday photos of all of us unwrapping Christmas gifts, my father inevitably wearing a gift-wrap bow on the top of his head. The stuff wasn’t that heavy. And it was sort of fun to decorate on my own.
    â€˜Perhaps you’d like to tutor Claire instead,’ my father suggested.
    I shook my head. ‘I’m kind of busy, too.’
    He rubbed his hand over his smooth chin. ‘Busy with what?’
    I didn’t answer.
    â€˜Well, I’ve already set it up,’ he breezed on. ‘She’s coming