For Keeps Read Online Free PDF

know.
    Which makes it all the more cringe-worthy when halfway through the meal Pops turns to my mom and says, “So, Kate. I heard you had quite the shopping trip the other night.”
    Come on. Does Liv really need to tell her dads everything? Is nothing sacred?
    My mom gives me a look. I kick Liv under the table.
    “Ow!”
    Liv’s twelve-year-old brother, Wyatt, raises his eyebrows at me. “Kidney stone?”
    “What?”
    “You seem to be in pain. When Pops had one, he said it hurt like—”
    “Oh, honey,” Dodd says, reaching out to caress my mom’s hand. “How are you?” His green eyes are wide with tragedy, as if instead of seeing Paul Tucci’s parents buying shampoo, my mom had witnessed a murder.
    “I’m fine,” she says, waving a shrimp through the air. “Absolutely fine. . . . I haven’t even thought about it.”
    Bald-faced lie. I saw the yearbook on her bed last night, and I know she was looking at Paul Tucci’s picture. Maybe the close-up—his senior portrait. Or the full-body shot of him at the foul line, shooting a free throw. If that’s not “thinking about it,” what is?
    “Thought about what ?” Wyatt says. His long strawberry-blond bangs flop gracefully over one eye—the latest of Dodd’s creations.
    “Kate ran into some old friends at the grocery store,” Pops explains. “Some friends she hadn’t expected to see again.”
    And the Euphemism of the Year Award goes to . . .
    “Josie’s dad’s parents,” Liv says, which compels me to kick her under the table once more. And once more she says, “Ow!” Then, “What?” Liv looks from me to my mom and back to me. “We all know the story. What’s the big secret? We’re family!”
    My mom nods and jams the fork in her mouth. She chews for a second, then blurts out something that sounds like “Family comes in many forms,” sending little bits of shrimp sailing through the air like confetti.
    Wyatt cocks an eyebrow at her. “Say it, don’t spray it.” And my mom laughs. If anyone is a good sport, it’s Kate Gardner. If anyone is going to smile and say, “Now, how ’bout that hair cake?” it’s my mom.
    Still, I know she’s hurting. Those Tuccis are stuck in her brain like shards of glass. But she’s not going to let on, believe me.
    I watch as my mom raises her glass to Dodd. “To the best expert colorist this side of the Mississippi.”
    “Hear, hear!” Pops says.
    “Hair, hair!” my mom says, and everyone laughs.
    I love this about her, the way she makes other people feel like a million bucks. Instead of throwing a pity party for herself, she’s always the first to say “Good for you” to someone else. It’s a wonderful trait. Also kind of twisted. I mean, why should Kate Gardner, this amazingly caring and giving person, not have what Pops and Dodd have? Someone who loves her back? Even someone who is completely tone-deaf like Pops, who right now is holding up the hair cake and singing, “Isn’t she loooovely” at the top of his lungs while Dodd gazes up at him with big, starry eyes. It’s the sweetest thing ever. Sweeter than hair cake.

    It’s 7:40 a.m. and I am back on Liv’s porch, ringing the doorbell. Since Liv is a May birthday and I’m June, all we have is our learner’s permits. We can’t drive to school yet, so we figured we’d ride the bus like we have every day since first grade (Liv: window seat, me: aisle), but for some reason my mom insisted on chauffeuring. Now she is sneaking little glances at us in the rearview mirror and saying things like, “Junior year. I can’t believe it. This is huge.”
    She’s fresh from the shower, fully caffeinated, and smiling, but I can just see the thought bubble rising over her head: Junior year. The year my life went to hell in a handbasket. My mom only got to be a junior for three months. Three months before she peed on a stick and saw that little pink plus sign.
    “One more year and you’ll be seniors,” she says. “ Two more and you’ll be