Misfit Read Online Free PDF Page A

moving?”
    says Britt.
    “Because he’s crazy,” says Jael.
    “Oh, God, now you’ve got me paranoid,” says Britt.
    “You better cal me afterwards. If my phone goes to voice mail, it’s because my mom’s hogging it, so just e-mail me.”
    “I’l try,” says Jael. “But you know, my old computer—”
    Britt waves her hand. “Hey, you know what? Don’t even worry about it. Because it’s not going to be a suitcase. It’s going to be something awesome. You just wait.”
    “But—”
    “J, trust me.” Britt squeezes Jael’s hand. “You are due for some awesome.”
    Jael forces a smile. She’s always admired the way Britt can stay optimistic, no matter what.
    “Sure,” she says, trying to match Britt’s upbeat tone.
    “You never know.”

    Jael gets home just as it starts to rain. The inside of the house is dark except for the light spil ing in from the kitchen doorway.
    Her father never turns on lights unless he has to. He’s never said why, but Jael assumes it’s to save money on electricity. Or because he’s morbid.
    The old wooden floorboards in the foyer squeak with each step, announcing her arrival as she makes her way to the kitchen.
    The kitchen light shines harshly from a single uncovered bulb over the sink. Her father sits at the white kitchen table. He was never a guy to show a lot of emotion, but the past few years, it’s gotten even worse. He never lets anything out anymore. Jael can’t imagine why he hasn’t just exploded by now.
    “Jael,” he says quietly.
    His hands rest on the table, and next to them, Jael sees a smal wooden box. A birthday present after al ? She feels a sudden surge of hope, but pushes it down. She needs to play it cool. Just because he has a present for her doesn’t mean they’re not moving. In fact, it could even be a consolation prize for ripping her out of the life she’s been trying to make the past two years.
    “Hey, Dad,” she says, and only gives the box a quick glance on her way to the fridge. She gets out a fig and takes a bite, letting the mel ow sweetness of its juice gather on her tongue as she tries to keep herself calm.

    He gestures to the chair across the table and says,
    “Please sit.”
    She walks slowly over to the chair and sits down. The window is directly behind her and she can hear raindrops striking the wide, flat leaves of the hostas in the tiny front garden.
    She takes another bite of her fig as she examines the box more closely. It’s about the right size for jewelry, but it’s plain and unfinished wood, with two tarnished silver hinges on one side and a silver clasp on the other side. A smal silver padlock lies next to the box, open, with a key stil in it.
    “Happy sixteenth birthday,” he says.
    “Thanks,” she says.
    “So . . . ,” he begins, then stops.
    Usual y, he speaks with absolute precision. The hesitation unnerves her more than anything else has.
    She gets the feeling this is something even bigger than a moving announcement.
    “I have been holding this,” he says, and his hands move to rest gently on the box, “for you. I promised I would give it to you on your sixteenth birthday.”
    He doesn’t say anything more. His face is blank, except a slight tic in one eyelid.
    “Who?” she asks. “Who did you promise?”
    “Your mother.”

    Jael suddenly feels like that scared little girl in the car at night in the desert.
    “My . . . mom?”
    “This was . . .” His voice crackles like an old record and he clears his throat. He brushes some imaginary dust from the smal wooden box. Then he says, “It was hers.”
    He pushes the box closer to her. With his eyes stil fixed on hers, he releases the clasp and opens the lid.
    Inside, the box is lined with a woven silver fabric. And in the middle rests a rough-cut, burgundy gem about the size of a baby’s fist, attached to a silver necklace chain. The sight of it pul s at something deep inside Jael. Her face is suddenly warm. The need to touch it almost feels