Lennon's Jinx Read Online Free PDF

so he can hump my leg, even though we whacked his
nads off years ago.
    “Buzz
off.” I shake him off my leg, not too roughly, because he’d blow away in a
light breeze.
    Undeterred,
Harry follows me to the kitchen. He’s determined to impregnate my foot. He
licks his chops.
    “Sorry,
bud. No treats here.” Currie’s a pescatarian, so there’s no meat in the house
for the little guy or me.
    Harry
attacks my ankle again. “Would you get your gay dog off me?”
    “He’s
not gay,” Currie says, matter of fact while spooning more yogurt. “Humping on
your leg is also a show of dominance. Harry’s simply letting you know he’s the
boss.”
    “Why
doesn’t he hump your leg?”
    “Because
Harry didn’t train me to feed him.”
    “That
was supposed to be your job when I agreed to keep him.”
    “You
are such a pawn in our game.” She shoves a bowl of yogurt and fruit over to me.
“Eat.”
    Currie
has me pegged. I pick Harry up by the scruff of his neck and feed him yogurt
from my spoon. “Who’s your boss?”
    She
waves her spoon at me. “Harry is. And that’s disgusting.”
    “You’re
the one who told me a dog’s mouth is cleaner than a human’s.”
    “It’s
still gross.”
    Gray
circles smudge the skin under her eyes that she tried to hide with Mom’s
concealer.
    I
peel a banana and stuff it into my mouth. “Didn’t you sleep last night?” The
thought of her overhearing Mom’s antics roils my insides.
    A
world of knowledge churns in her dark eyes. “I have a hard time sleeping until
you get home.”
    Guilt
works its way into my expression. “I’ll come home earlier from now on during
the week.” I can’t on the weekends because of the band. I don’t want Currie to
lose sleep, especially over me. Many a night I was stuck in the house alone,
waiting for the deadbeats to get home. I either pay a babysitter when I go out
or Currie goes next door to the Nowaks.
    “It’s
your senior year. You should have fun.”
    I
mess her hair. “You’re my fun.”
    “Hey.
Stop that. I just got my hair to lay flat.” She pulls out a compact mirror from
her designer bag and fixes it.
    “Diva,”
I say, laughing.
    Currie
pouts. “Am not.”
    She
pinches me. It doesn’t hurt, so I laugh harder. She huffs at me.
    I
thumb through the paper to see what’s happening in the world and because Currie
makes me. She wants me to become more cultural. Nothing really helps, but I try
for her. A sour expression twists her lips, which makes me wonder what’s really
troubling her.
    “Anything
going on with Zoe?” I ask. I’ve known her since the day she was born, which was
a week after Currie. I arranged play dates, so Currie had someone normal to
hang out with. Zoe’s parents adore me, maybe the only two grownups on the
planet who do.
    Currie’s
face pinches with worry. “She has to have more chemo.”
    Zoe’s
been in remission for almost four years. We were hoping forever. “That sucks.
We’ll sneak in real food for her at the hospital.”
    Currie
nods, fighting back emotion. Most kids don’t stress about dying, but Currie
does. Like me, she’s had important people disappear in her life. That would be
Jonathan. The only problem with him is he keeps popping up like a serial killer
in a bad horror movie.
    It’ll
devastate her if Zoe isn’t around anymore. Even though she was only six the
last time she had treatments, Currie helped Zoe every day. There’s not much
else we can do.
    “Maybe
we should go to church and pray,” Currie says.
    I
don’t have any feeling for the Dude either way. “Okay.”
    “Dad
called.” Currie hesitates, reading me first before she continues, “He wants me
to stay longer this summer. I can take a dance intensive, and there’s this
great violin teacher. There’s also this really—”
    “You
can do that here.” She doesn’t need him and neither do I. If I have my way, she
won’t have to go this summer at all.
    She
swirls her yogurt with her spoon. “I like Denage.