Kyle's Island Read Online Free PDF

still fished a little, but his wife hardly ever came outside.
    â€œKyle, you want to kick the soccer ball for a while?” Josh called to me.
    â€œJust a minute, Josh. Somebody’s coming to look at it already?”
    â€œMmm-hmm. So Mom said we have to be sure our suits and wet towels don’t get left on the floor.”
    â€œHuh,” I scoffed, getting to my feet. “I’m not going to clean the cottage for anybody. They can just see it as it is.” Josh climbed back up on the pier and looked at me hopefully. I grabbed him around the neck and gave his head a Dutch rub with my knuckles. He hunched his shoulders and squealed, and I remembered how I used to feel when Dad did that to me—kind of safe and scared at the same time. “Okay, Josh,” I said, letting him go, “we’ll kick the ball around a bit.”
    â€œWe’ll play, too.” Andrea held out her hand to Vicki. Vicki looked uncertain, then laughed and said, “Okay, Andrea and I against Kyle and Josh. Losers do the dishes.”
    It’s funny how sometimes a silly game you’ve played a thousand times turns into something special. That’s the wayit was that day. It was like I was playing, but I was watching at the same time. I saw the determined way Josh clenched his jaws when he was dribbling the ball. I saw Vicki’s long blond hair kind of floating behind her as she took the ball toward our goal. I saw the tiny beads of sweat on Andrea’s upper lip as she tried to dribble past me. I even saw the scab on my knee as I passed the ball to Josh. Our voices seemed to float out over the water. The day was so beautiful, and things were so right between us all.
    It’s not like this at home, I thought. At home we’re all separate and busy, each of us going our own way. Here we’re together. Close. We can’t lose all this just because of a little money. Why can’t Mom see that?

CHAPTER FIVE
    I’D SAID I WOULDN’T HELP clean the cottage for the people coming to look at it, but there I was the next morning, sweeping the porch floor with Gram’s old straw broom. I hate sweeping. I’d offered to do dishes, but Vicki said she and Andrea were planning to do them, that they had things to talk about. I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Josh had volunteered to help Mom make beds, so I could complain or sweep, and I didn’t think it was a good day for complaining.
    I was still mad at Mom, but a little ashamed, too. You shouldn’t let go that way, shouting and all. When I was little and lost my temper, Dad taught me a trick. He said, “You never see me lose my temper, do you, Kyle? You can control your temper or let it control you.” And then he’d ask, “Who’s boss, son, you or Old Man Temper?” OMT—funny, I hadn’t thought of him in years—but it got so allDad had to do was grin and say “OMT,” and I’d make myself calm down.
    Well, yesterday afternoon OMT had sure shown up again. After Josh and I won the soccer game, he’d run up to the cottage to brag to Mom. When he came back down, he looked at me kind of accusingly and said, “Mom’s been crying.” That wasn’t exactly my fault, but no one likes their mom to cry. So today I was being Pleasant and Helpful, the way Mom wanted—up to a point.
    â€œAs soon as they get here, we’ll pile into the car and go into Elkhart for lunch,” Mom told me when I started sweeping in the main room.
    I stopped sweeping. “Not me. I want to stay here.”
    â€œIt would be awkward, Kyle. They’ll need privacy to talk to Dave, say what they really think.”
    â€œBut I won’t be where I can hear them. I’ll be down by the lake. C’mon, Mom—let me stay.” Just in case, I thought. If this really was our last summer here, I didn’t want to miss a minute.
    Andrea came in from the kitchen, dish towel in one hand,