Beating Heart Read Online Free PDF

Evan,” she says, sitting down in her chair again. “Now! If I can just get some work done!” She pulls herself up to her desk, traces of irritation still on her face as she peers at the computer screen, trying to figure out where she was.
    Even so, Evan lingers. There’s something he feels compelled to point out. “You know, Mom,” he says. “Maybe Libby wouldn’t be dreaming up fake people if you’d have somebody over for her to play with once in a while.”
    That gets his mother’s attention again. She swivels away from the screen and gives him a look that could curdle milk. “Evan. I work at home now. Just because I’m not punching a clock from nine to five doesn’t mean I don’t have a job. I’m a writer. I have to write.”
    â€œYou’re also a mother. You could take time to do something for her.”
    Mom looks stunned. Just for a moment, though. Then her eyes narrow. “So could you,” she says coldly. “You’re seventeen, and it’s summer. You aren’t in school and you don’t have a job. You have a car—which I bought, by the way, and which I keep insured and full of gas. Instead of judging and complaining, why don’t you take Libby somewhere to play?”
    Now Evan is the one at a loss for words. But only for a few seconds. “Because I’m not the parent here!” he snaps at her, and then turns to stomp out of the office.
    Â 
    Upstairs, Evan slams the door to his room and walks around fuming for a bit, unable to concentrate on anything.
    It’s not fair—he did have a job, last summer. He just hasn’t gotten around to having one yet this summer—but he will. It’s not like he enjoys having to ask her for money. It’s not like he’s had a lot of time , anyway, the way she’s kept him packing and cleaning.
    He just wanted to take a break for a few weeks. God. He made good grades all year. Played two differentsports. Worked his butt off. You’d think that would count for something.
    Finally he finds himself staring with irritation and guilt at the photo of himself and his dad. It’s true: he hasn’t done anything for Libby since they’ve moved. And he should; he’s the man of the house now. Instead, he’s left Libby to fend for herself. Even more than Mom has, because he has the time.
    Dad’s there in the photo, smiling. In real life he’s gone, off to a hassle-free existence. If he hadn’t left, Mom wouldn’t be so preoccupied, Evan wouldn’t be feeling responsible, and Libby wouldn’t be feeling sad. It seems unfair that Evan, Mom, and Libby should be the ones feeling bad and fighting while the one who started it all walked away scot-free.
    Evan pulls his keepsake shoebox out of the drawer. He takes the framed photo off the desk and stows it away in the box. As he puts the box back into the drawer, there’s a knock at the door.
    â€œWhat?” he growls.
    â€œCan I come in?” It’s Libby.
    Evan doesn’t really want her to, but he’s also feelingguilty now about never doing anything for her. “All right,” he tells her, shutting the drawer.
    â€œAre you busy?” she asks.
    â€œNot really.”
    â€œWill you play with me?”
    â€œWhat do you want to play?”
    Libby screws her face up in an expression of futile hope. “Dolls?”
    â€œNo,” Evan says without hesitation. But Libby is now standing with one hand on the back of the chair, and she’s scanning the desktop.
    â€œWhere’s your picture of Dad?”
    â€œI dunno.”
    â€œYou didn’t lose it, did you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, where is it?”
    â€œIn a drawer.”
    â€œWhy is it in a drawer?”
    â€œHey,” Evan tells her, “dolls it is. Just this once.”
    Libby’s face lights up. “Really?”
    Evan sighs. “Yeah. This is it, though.