Chaos (Kardia Chronicles) (Entangled Teen) Read Online Free PDF Page B

for my column. The first message in a list of twelve had a sad face in the subject line, and I clicked it. I sure as hell wasn’t making any headway on my own problems. Maybe I could help someone else.
Dear She:
My mom won’t respect my privacy, and I’m losing my mind! It’s like I can’t even have a thought without her in my face about it. Sometimes, she’ll just hold out her hand and I’m supposed to give her my phone so she can read all my texts. Then, the other day, I found her reading my journal. My JOURNAL! Shouldn’t that be sacred? It’s so unfair. Why buy me a journal with a little lock on it if you’re just going to find the key and read it anyways? I’ve asked her that, and she just says it’s for “my safety” and if I wasn’t so secretive and talked to her more, we wouldn’t be having this problem. Bottom line? As long as I’m in her house, I have to obey her rules. My stepmom is a total bitch so I can’t move in with my dad, and I don’t have a job so I can’t go anywhere else. Short of living on the streets, I don’t know what to do anymore. HELP!
Signed,
Wits End
    I mulled over the question and began to type.
Dear Wits End:
I feel your pain. It’s tough when someone won’t respect your boundaries and feels like they have the right to get all up in your business, even when it is your mom. If I were you, I’d have it out with her. Put your foot down and explain how bad what she’s doing makes you feel. Maybe she’ll get a clue that she’s the one causing the friction between the two of you and if she got out of your hair, you’d be more willing to talk to her and spend more time together.
Forever Yours,
She
    I hit send almost defiantly. Mac Finnegan wasn’t going to stop me from doing something I enjoyed. Not to mention, it was good advice. Feeling righteous and a little better all around, I shut down my e-mail and surfed the net for a while, Googling the answers to life’s most pressing questions like: Do turtles have vaginas? And What’s a Hessian? I must have fallen into some weird, data-induced trance, because it seemed like only a few minutes had passed when a knock at the door came, but it was already getting dark out.
    Mom stood in the doorway for a long moment. The shadows under her eyes were even deeper than they had been before, and I swallowed back the guilt.
    “Bink’s here.” She turned to go.
    “Thanks, Mom,” I called after her softly. I sat up and smoothed my hand over my hair.
    “You look like shit,” Bink observed as he stepped into the room.
    “Gee, thanks. You’re looking great yourself.”
    He grinned and shuffled over to my desk and folded his giant frame into the rolly chair.
    “You sure you’re up to helping me?”
    “Seriously? I look that bad?” I set my computer on the comforter and pushed myself off the bed to step in front of the full-length mirror. My hair stood out at all angles like a black fright-wig, and my now-wrinkled shirt sported a giant peach fro-yo stain front and center. Bleary, haunted green eyes stared back at me, and I blinked. “Point taken. I’m going to go wash my face. You pull out your notes from class, and we’ll get cracking.”
    I headed down the hallway toward the bathroom when I heard Bink’s mournful reply. “Notes? I’m supposed to have notes?”
    I should’ve been annoyed, and I snorted at him disapprovingly, but inside I was relieved. This was going to take focused attention and hours of work. Exactly the additional distraction I needed after a day like today.
    By eight o’clock, we’d slogged through the long and stunningly boring book and had gotten the first four pages of Bink’s paper on it. I was feeling a little better in general and had decided to not be an alarmist about Gram. Mom had just lived through a hellish day. After a good night’s sleep, everything would look different to her. We’d talk tomorrow and come up with some solutions. Maybe I could even homeschool so I could help more