Charlotte Cuts It Out Read Online Free PDF Page B

water. Buffy bends down and kisses my cheek, leaving behind a rope of slobber.
    Right then, the back door bells jingle again and Oliver and Nina come into the kitchen. Buffy barrels between them, practically knocking Nina off her feet, to get outside.
    â€œUgh!” Oliver says, noticing the pee puddle, then follows Buffy out to lock the gate so she doesn’t get into the street. Nina rushes over—as fast as a hugely pregnant woman can rush, that is—and yells, “Oh my God, Charlotte! Are you okay?”
    This would be hilarious if it had happened to someone else. Lying on the floor soaking wet and slimy, I turn my head and see Nina’s freshly French-tipped toes in black disposable salon flip-flops. Just seeing them sends me over the edge. Nina didn’t leave work because of pregnancy exhaustion. She wanted a pedicure—from a salon, not from me. And here she is, all polished and pretty, standing by the smeared, slobbery mess that I’m lying—no, more like wallowing—in.
    I scoot over and wipe my Buffy-slimed cheek across her perfect little pedi.
    Nina screams. “Ew! What was that?”
    Laughing, I tell her, grab the paper towels from the floor, and clean up the rest of the mess.
    Just then, Oliver shows up. “I latched the—” He notices something is going on. “What the—?”
    â€œShe slobbered on me!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCharlotte wiped slobber on my foot,” Nina says again, slowly.
    Trying to process everything, Oliver keeps looking from Nina to me and asking her questions. Then she and Oliver argue about the cleanliness of a dog’s mouth.
    I toss out the paper towels and head back upstairs to do homework. On the way, I hear Oliver ask his phone if dog slobber is harmful to pregnant women. Even though I’m a total mess, the look on Nina’s face was priceless. I can’t wait to tell Lydia all about it.

four

    By the time I get downstairs about an hour later, everyone is at the dinner table. The store must’ve been slow enough for Mike to handle alone, because Dad, Pops, and Ralph are here, too. Mom takes a bite of the broccoli rice casserole and almost instantly spits it into her napkin. “Charlotte.” One word and a single look. That’s all it takes.
    I stab a piece of chicken with my fork and transfer it to my plate. Nina picks at her roll and the salad that Mom must’ve made when she got home, and Oliver shovels food into his face obliviously.
    Dad asks Ralph to pass the salt. Mom intercepts it and gives him the
Moose-you-know-you-shouldn’t-eat-salt
look. Then Ralph flashes him the
Sorry-but-I-tried
look. Dad takes the salt and sprinkles it on his food anyway. He smiles at Mom and soothes her by complimenting her dinner and calling her Angel 3.14, his pet name for her, which means “Angel Pi(e).” Ugh. This is what you have to deal with when your parents met in Statistics 101.
    Mom returns her attention to me. “You didn’t follow therecipe I left for you.” Translation:
You should do what I tell you—follow my instructions, look at those catalogs, forget hairdressing, and go to a prestigious university. Then you’ll become something I can brag about.
Mom considers a hairdresser someone you hire, not something you become. No matter how often I tell her that
stylists
are
entrepreneurs
who dictate their own schedules and fees, she doesn’t listen.
    â€œI followed it for a while, but then I chose to forge my own path instead.” I take a roll and drop it onto my plate. It bounces off and onto the floor, which is not exactly the punctuation I was going for. Buffy nabs it.
    â€œSometimes tried-and-true methods are more palatable.” Mom primly pops a baby romaine leaf in her mouth.
    I spoon some of the casserole onto my plate. “And sometimes they’re pointless and boring.” Then I take a bite. It’s really gross, but I swallow quickly and