Imaginary Enemy Read Online Free PDF Page B

just beat up, since I was bigger than he was, but Chord I rewarded with a squeeze-and-twist pinch that left an angry purple mark tattooed on his forearm.
    I pretended confusion. “What are you talking about?”
    “Elliot’s gardens.”
    “Sharp was really dumb to do that,” I said casually.
    “Yeah. But now he’s busted and you’re in the clear. Don’t you feel guilty?”
    “Why should I?” I responded defiantly. I refused to meet his eyes though I could feel them on my face.
    “I saw you, Janie.”
    “Saw me what?”
    “Saw you with the dishwashing soap. You and Sharp together. Course I didn’t know what you were doing…just thought it was another of your goofy games. I was sitting on the back porch with Banjo.”
    I raked my fork across the plate. “Mind your own business,” I muttered.
    “Peggy told Dad it’ll take years to replace those plants. And Elliot’s been babying them forever.”
    “Plants die.”
    “Those had a little help. A lot, actually.”
    “Shut up, Luke. I didn’t do anything.”
    “It’ll be expensive, too, to replace them. Apparently plants cost a lot. Specially water lilies and stuff like that.”
    “Bug off,” I snapped.
    “Your dirty little secret’s safe with me,” he said, walking away.
    My plate was empty. My stomach was full. But I didn’t feel satisfied. I felt something else—something uncomfortable that I wanted to avoid. Something that made me turn away from the mirror when I went indoors to use the bathroom. It made me glad that, because of his punishment, I wouldn’t have to face Sharp for a while.

    Dear Bubba,
    Is it my fault Sharp was so stupid as to leave evidence of his crime? I was smart enough to erase all traces of my involvement, and he should have done the same. Someone that clueless deserves to get caught.
    In the clear,
Gabriel

I Spy
    S harp sat beside me and smiled. “Elliot’s right.”
    “About what?”
    “Water.”
    I looked at him as if he was speaking Sanskrit. His face was serious and his tone of voice indicated that he believed this information was of extreme importance. He patiently explained that he’d spent several weeks carefully listening and observing. “Elliot says faucet water and nature water sound different. Since a sprinkler is a machine, it has a constant rhythm. You can alter the rhythm by changing the water pressure or adjusting the settings, but its rhythm is still a static thing.
    “But rain rhythms are controlled by the energies of the universe—by wind and the earth’s rotation and the size of the water droplets, stuff like that. And it can change from instant to instant. It’s much more lyrical. Much freer.
    “The same goes for running water. The faucet produces a constant flow, but a river slips and slides to the sea at a rate that changes with every stone or curve.”
    “You’re weird,” I said.
    “But you get it, don’t you? And it makes perfect sense.”
    “You’re weird,” I repeated.
    But I did get it, and it did make sense. I just wondered why normal people would worry about such things. Sometimes I was frightened by Sharp’s ideas and his assumption that other people pondered the same bizarre stuff he did.

    “Jazz and Zander were wrestling in the house,” said Carmella, hands on her hips and head cocked slightly to the side. “That’s against the rules.”
    “And Banjo was going crazy,” added Harmony. “Running in circles and barking like mad.”
    “They knocked Mom’s African violet off the table.”
    “We saw them.”
    “There was dirt all over the place.”
    “Then they stuffed the plant back in the pot, but it’s all smashed looking. It’s a mess like you wouldn’t believe.” Carmella looked smug.
    “Wait till your parents see it.” Harmony shook her head.
    “Guess what else?” said Carmella.
    I looked at the two six-year-old tattlers and said nothing.
    “You won’t believe it,” she added, hoping to suck me into their psychotic game.
    Still I didn’t