Nature of Jade Read Online Free PDF

when he's right there having dinner with us, or when we're all driving in the car together, or watching TV. When you have a conversation with him, it's less like he's listening than he's being quiet while you talk. His eyes are looking your way, but he's not really with you. It makes me wonder if his absence is really just concealed disappointment. I get this feeling that he's lived by all these rules all his life and tried to get us to live by them too, just like he was supposed to, but now it's turned out to be something of a letdown. As if he'd followed step-by-step
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    instructions on how to build an entertainment center and ended up with a nightstand instead.
    The bad part about my Oliver-saving plan is that Oliver doesn't get dinner--his stomach needs to settle, according to Mom, so all he has is ginger ale and a couple of saltines. After we eat, I bring him up some confiscated slices of that thin, rubbery orange cheese wrapped in cellophane, a couple of peanut-butter granola bars, and a banana. He is sitting up in bed, looking as happy as a released prisoner. He's reading The Narnia Fact Book by the light of the clip-on lamp attached to his headboard. A shelf of trophies (for participation, not skill) is directly opposite him, the frozen figures packed tight and looking on the verge of a golden war, with their upraised arms and kicking feet and swinging bats.
    Oliver thanks me for the food, folds a piece of shiny cheese into his mouth. "What was Lucy's gift from Father Christmas?" he asks.
    "Days-of-the-week underwear."
    "Come on, Sis."
    "Okay. Magic potion." Close.
    "Magic dust."
    "No. Flask of Healing."
    "Sounds handy. Okay. I've got to go finish my homework." "Who was the 'sea girl'?" "Oliver, I've got a ton of math."
    '"Sea girl,'" he reads. '"An undersea girl in Voyage of the Dawn Treader that Lucy sees as the ship passes. They become friends, just by meeting eyes, though their worlds cannot meet.'"
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    I shut the door behind me. I pass Mom and Dad's room, see Mom sitting on her bed in her sweats, watching a travel show on television, small squares of construction paper around her. Everything in the room matches--floral duvet, matching floral bed skirt and valance above the window. It's take-no-chances decorating.
    "Jade! Come here for a sec."
    I pop my head into the room.
    "Invitations for the principal's tea next week. What do you think?" Blue on yellow, green on blue, yellow on green, green on yellow. Come meet Mr. Hunter, your principle pal at Ballard High!
    It's funny how we've developed tool-making skills over billions of years only to use them for invitations for teas and wrapping Christmas presents and folding napkins into swans.
    "I like the green on blue," I say. I'm used to these decisions. Valentine faculty parties and mother-daughter teas and graduation cruises. I've seen more invitations than the White House mailman.
    "Really? It seems a little dark. I was thinking maybe yellow on blue." "Sure."
    "That'd be zingier. Is that a word? More zingy."
    "Uh-huh." I remind myself a little of Dad right then. The travel show is visiting some amazing beach with beautiful, clear water and women in tiny bathing suits walking on the sand. "Where's this?" I ask.
    "I've lost track. Australia?"
    It doesn't look like Australia, but oh, well. I watch for a minute.
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    "You should have seen the pool they just showed. Wow. Water slides, swim-up bars, a lagoon."
    "You should go. You and Dad."
    "Australia's got sharks. You can't even swim in the ocean. No, thanks."
    "Then don't go in the ocean. Just tan by the pool and sip drinks with umbrellas in them. Or go to London." We'd heard the story a thousand times about how she'd planned to live in London for a year with a bunch of her girlfriends after they all got their business degrees, but how she'd married Dad straight out of college instead.
    "Jade, all right. If I want to go, I'll go, okay?" Her voice prickles. And I guess I understand. It's a role reversal from her