Girl on the Other Side Read Online Free PDF

should probably say something and help him out. But I don’t. Watching him struggle is sort of fun, in a mean, sadistic kind of way — like torturing a spider by pulling off its legs.
    After a minute he opens his mouth again. This time, he comes up with this gem:
    â€œUm … so how’s school going this year?”
    I sigh and roll my eyes.
    â€œLike you really care?”
    He frowns.
    â€œBelieve it or not, I do, Tabitha. Look, I know I haven’t been around very much lately….”
    I pick up my menu and pretend to start reading.
    â€œYeah, right …”
    There’s a long silence. I glance up and see that his face has turned a bright shade of red and his eyes are bulging with anger.
    â€œPlease don’t speak to me that way,” he whispers, glancing around to make sure nobody is listening. “I’m still your father and I deserve some respect.”
    I snort and raise my menu up to my face, blocking him out of my view. Suddenly, a rhythmic clicking breaks through the white noise of the restaurant. I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s Catherine. The sound of her shoes on the tiled floor is a dead giveaway. She always wears the highest heels she can squeeze her feet into. And I mean always . Even if she’s just heading out to the bank or to the mailbox.
    I turn around just in time to see her click up to our table and glide into her seat.
    â€œHappy birthday, darling!” she says, leaning over and kissing the air beside my cheek. Then, reaching into her Louis Vuitton purse, she pulls out a white envelope and hands it to me. I take it and carefully feel around inside the envelope for the bracelet. It only takes a couple of seconds to figure out it isn’t there.
    â€œWhat’s this?” I ask with a frown.
    Catherine laughs. “It’s a cheque, you silly girl! I didn’t have time to go to the store. But I thought you’d like this better, anyway. Now you can choose anything you want.”
    I shake my head. “But … no … what about the bracelet?”
    Now it’s Catherine’s turn to look confused.
    â€œBracelet?”
    â€œThe pearl one … Grandma’s. You know, you promised I could have it when I turned fifteen.”
    Catherine tilts her head back and laughs. “Darling! I’m sure I never made a promise like that. That bracelet is an antique. It’s far too valuable to hand over to a child.”
    â€œBut, she left it to me in her will. She wanted me to have it.”
    â€œIt’s in our safety deposit box for now. You’ll get it when you’re ready. Maybe when you’re twenty.”
    My chest suddenly starts to hurt. It feels like someone is vacuuming out my insides. Pushing away the pain, I rip the flap of the envelope open and look inside. Catherine isn’t joking — it is just a cheque. Not even a card. I stare down at the numbers until they turn blurry and I can feel the sting of tears behind my eyes. I bite my lip hard and will them not to fall. No way am I going to let her see me cry!
    Shoving the envelope into my coat pocket, I stare down at my shoes while I wait for the tears to evaporate. I can see the outline of my butterfly ankle tattoo through the thin material of my stocking. I got that tattoo last year. Brandi, Dylan, and I snuck off to an ink parlour in downtown Toronto. I didn’t ask my parents because I was sure they’d be upset. Tattooing is against our religion. Technically our family is Jewish — even though we don’t really practise much. We almost never go to synagogue and my parents didn’t seem to care when I dropped out of Hebrew school and decided against a Bat Mitzvah. But still, I was pretty scared of what they would say about the tattoo. It was a total sin in the Jewish religion — something about defacing the body. I was also nervous about catching a horrible disease from the needle since the only place to