Little Sister Read Online Free PDF

she thought as she stepped out onto the chilly pavement. Maybe the walk will clear your head. She heard the door open behind her, and the boy with the guitar scurried out and across the parking lot toward the garage across the street. The boss came back and spoiled all their fun, she thought. Serves them right. She started off down the road toward the center of town. Great to be back, she thought. Great. The high-heeled boots were difficult to walk in, but they were the only black boots she had, and she’d worn them because she figured that she needed them for the funeral.
    A couple of schoolgirls passed Beth on their bikes, chattering as they stood up on the pedals. They were bundled up in parkas and rubber boots, although Beth noted with rueful amusement that they were wearing Sergio Valente jeans. One of them could be Francie, Beth thought. She realized that she wouldn’t even recognize her sister if it were she. One of the girls was pudgy, with a green knit hat squashing down her hair. Beth felt a little pang as she watched the girl ride by. That was me, she thought. All over. Plain, awkward, and out of it, even by this town’s standards. Good in school and a social flop. What was it that her father used to call her? The dowdy dumpling.
    Her father. Beth had been trying not to think about the reason she was here. As she made her way along in her designer coat, high boots, and expensive haircut, which looked like something from a magazine, she suddenly felt dull, inept, and ugly. All of her life in Philadelphia—the business she’d built, the home she’d made, the wonderful man who loved her—seemed insubstantial. And it was just because she was here, on his turf again.
    “Hey, there,” a voice called out. Beth looked around and saw a station wagon with the 7-Eleven logo on the door slowing beside her. The driver was the counterman from the convenience store. “Do you need a ride?” he asked.
    Recalling the scene at the store, Beth just frowned and waved him away.
    “Hey, don’t be mad,” he said, “I was just in a bad mood ’cause Noah was driving me crazy with that guitar of his, and I was trying to finish my book before my boss got back.”
    For a minute she felt like saying, “Get lost,” but she was tired, and the boy was obviously trying to be neighborly. Refusing the ride seemed like rather a childish, spiteful gesture. Beth nodded and forced a thin smile.
    “All right,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
    The boy leaned over and opened the passenger door. Beth threw her bag in the back and slid into the front seat.
    “It’s getting dark,” said the boy. “You have to be careful on this road. The other drivers can’t see you.”
    “I hadn’t realized it,” said Beth, taking off her dark glasses and slipped them into her purse. “Which way are you heading?” Beth asked.
    “Oh, I have to make a few deliveries. All over.”
    “The Seven-Eleven delivers?” Beth asked incredulously.
    “Well, yeah. Here we do.”
    Beth peered into the back of the car and saw that the flatbed of the wagon had several boxes of groceries packed in it. Turning back, she caught the boy’s eye in the rearview mirror, and he quickly looked away. She found something faintly charming about the way he nervously avoided her glance. She had a sudden sense of how exotic she must seem to him—a glamorous “older woman,” visiting from some far-off place where the 7-Elevens didn’t deliver. And here he was, looking as if he were just about old enough to have his license.
    “Where can I drop you?” he asked.
    Beth sighed. “Sullivan’s Funeral Home.”
    “Oh,” said the boy with polite concern in his voice, “who died?”
    “My father.” Beth felt a fleeting sense of embarrassment as she said it, and her voice caught for a second in her throat, even though she did not feel sad. She was here to bury her father. It did not seem real to her at all.
    “Oh, that’s too bad.” There was a silence between them.