Peas and Carrots Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘meh’?”
    Hope shrugged. “I didn’t really stay long enough to find out.”
    Dropping his neoprene lunch bag on the counter, Mr. Carter turned to his daughter with a worried frown. Rolling up the sleeve of his striped blue dress shirt, he put his bare wrist on her forehead. “You sick?”
    Hope pulled his arm away and kissed it before wrapping it around herself for a hug. “No, and you know it’s scientifically impossible to tell if someone has a fever by putting your arm on their head.”
    “It worked for your grandma,” her father said, and looped his other arm around her. “What happened, sweet?”
    “Just the usual school stuff plus…clothing malfunction. Woman stuff.”
    “Woman stuff? Eww.” Her father peered into her face with a teasing smile. “You’re on your own with that, babe.”
    “Thank you at least for not saying ‘Oh, honey,’ like Mom kept doing.” Hope held out her hand for his change as he emptied his pockets and then began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m surprised she didn’t text you to pick me up. I could have used a lift.”
    “She might have, but she knew I had meetings. Sorry, but I was completely useless all day long,” her father said, unbuckling his belt and tugging it from the loops on his slacks as he padded down the hall. “I hate meetings.”
    Hope trailed after him, as was her ritual, pocketing the change he’d given her while he disappeared into his bedroom, shedding work clothes as he went. He emerged a few moments later in a pair of ratty jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt with the logo of a software company in orange and blue centered on the back. “Much better,” he declared. “What’s the news from Hong Kong? How’s our old friend Savannah?”
    “Fine, I guess. The prefect introduced her to everyone in assembly today, and it was eighty-four and she couldn’t take off her blazer, because it’s part of the uniform.”
    He shuddered. “Sounds horrible. Poor kid. You meet Odessa yet?”
    “Yeah, I met her. I wonder if she and Austin are named after towns in Texas on purpose.” Hope shook her head in disbelief. “Mom called her Dess, though.”
    “Hey, Austin,” Dad said, poking his head into the land of trucks and trains. “You have Hope and Maira and now another sister, buddy. How about that?”
    “Defsa’s with Mama,” Austin said, and smashed his truck into a pile of blocks.
    “De
ss
a,” Dad corrected him, coming down hard on the “s” sound. “They should be back soon,” he said, and headed for the kitchen. “Is it too hot to eat out back?”
    “Nah,” Hope said, falling into her role as sous-chef. “I’m starving.”
    —
    They were halfway through dinner prep when Mom came home. She carried her diaper bag on one arm and swung Jamaira in her car seat up onto the counter with the other. Dad gave Mom his usual greeting—“Hey, beautiful!” and a quick hug and a kiss—and leaned over the car seat.
    “There’s my baby princess,” he singsonged, and Jamaira, half-asleep, smiled sweetly at his voice. Hope, as always, felt her heart twist at Maira’s smile. Her attention, however, was on the doorway behind her mother as Dess slouched in, fists clutching the sleeves of her hoodie, arms crossed.
    “Russell, this is Dessa Matthews,” Mom said.
    Dad looked up and smiled. “Hello, nice to have you. I understand the name Odessa possibly comes from the Greek word
odysseia,
from which we gain the word ‘odyssey,’ which is a long and eventful journey. Have you had one of those today?”
    Oh, Dad.
Hope hunched her shoulders. She tried to see her father through Dess’s eyes—and winced. Dark, thin, and wiry, three inches shorter than Mom, with close-shaved hair and a graying goatee, Dad was wrapped in an apron that said “Just a Man with a Pan.” Now he was spouting crap that made him sound like some super-nerd on college
Jeopardy!
Dess probably thought he sounded stupid. Sometimes some of the older foster kids were hostile toward