Bittersweet Summer Read Online Free PDF

her at Christmas and in the summer, but I missed her, especially at night after Dad tucked me in. “I’ll turn the light off myself,” I always said. “I have to look at Mom first.”
    He would nod and get a sad look on his face before he went out and closed my door.
    I knew she was only a poster, but I told her everything. I pretended she could whisper back to me.
    I traced her smile with my finger. “Do we have to move to Portland?” I asked her.
    She didn’t answer. She hardly ever spoke to me in the daytime.
    I flopped onto my bed and stared at her. “What about Claire’s summer project?” I asked. Mom still didn’t say anything, but her smile reminded me that she was still there for me. I still had a mom. We could talk on the phone. I could listen to her CDs. When we got together, she would read to us and hug us. Claire’s mom couldn’t do any of that. She could never step out of the old photo Claire had showed me once.
    I sat up on the bed; my mind was made up. Claire needed a new mom much more than I did. Ms. Morgan should live across the street. Claire was going to be the perfect daughter for her.

Chapter 11
Mom on the Phone
    T HAT NIGHT AFTER SUPPER , Dad went to the store to buy the watermelon. “Back in ten minutes,” he said.
    I got out the family photo album. Tyler curled up beside me in the green chair. “This is Mom when you were still inside her,” I told him.
    He touched Mom’s big belly with his finger. “I want her back with us,” Tyler said. He pushed the album away and stuck his thumb in his mouth.
    “Dad says she’s too famous now,” I told him. “She can’t come back.”
    “She could sing ‘Down in the Valley’ when I go to bed,” he said around his thumb. “She sings that when we’re at Grandma’s house.”
    “She sings it to me, too,” I said. Mom was also good at rubbing my back to help me fall asleep.
    Tyler pulled the album back and turned the page to a photo of Mom sitting in a circle of people playing guitars. “Who are those people?” Tyler poked at the photos with his wet thumb.
    “They came every Thursday night.” I wiped thumb juice off the photo. “They played music in the family room.”
    “If Mom was here, I would be in my bed listening to that.” He turned another page. “There!” he said. “She got me out of her stomach.”
    Mom was holding Tyler, a tiny baby, in her arms. Her face looked soft as she bent over him. She looked really happy, being a mother.
    I remembered her in the kitchen, sprinkling cinnamon on my French toast. I remembered her picking me up at school, leaning out of the car and saying, “Hurry up, Katie bug.”
    Beside me, Tyler sucked harder on his thumb. I was going to have to tell Dad about the thumb. He would say Tyler was going through a stage. He would tell me Tyler needs lots of hugs right now.
    As I closed the album, the phone rang.
    “You have to get it,” Tyler said. “Dad’s not here.”
    I ran to the phone. “Hi, Katie bug,” Mom’s voice said.
    “Mom!”
    Tyler ran into the family room. “Let me,” he shouted. “Let me talk!”
    I jerked the phone away from him. Then I gave up. No way could I talk to Mom while he was yelling. I slid down on the floor and thumped my feet while he pressed the phone against his ear and nodded.
    “Say something to her,” I whispered. He shook his head and frowned at me.
    When Mom’s voice stopped, I held out my hand. “My turn,” I said.
    Tyler shook his head. “Mommy?” he asked. “Can you come back home?”
    Mom’s voice started up again and I heard something about concerts and Dad. “She wants to talk to Dad,” I said. “Give me the phone.”
    “She’s coming,” Tyler said as he handed the phone to me. “I think.”
    “Hi, Mom,” I said.
    “Katie.” As usual Mom’s talking sounded almost like her singing. “I’m doing a concert in Oregon. Next week. It would be so much fun to see you all.”
    My stomach lurched with excitement. “I’ll tell