Seven Stories Up Read Online Free PDF

were a maroon brocade couch and a low table. A big wooden radio sat against one wall, flanked by bookshelves. I walked over to read the spines of the books but only recognized a few.
The Cuckoo Clock … East o’ the Sun and West o’ the Moon … Roller Skates …
I reached for a copy of
The Secret Garden—the
copy, I supposed. “At least I’ve read this one,” I said.
    “Oh, that’s my very favorite,” said Molly. “I’ve read it five times.”
    “Five?”
    “It’s special,” she said. “Mother gave it to me.” She pointed to a row of well-dressed dolls sitting on the floor against a wall. “And these are from Papa.”
    “Funny, I have one exactly like this,” I said, crouching down to stroke the golden hair on one doll in particular.
    “You do?” said Molly. “That’s Arabella.”
    “Mine’s named Junebug,” I said, noticing a familiar scratch on the doll’s arm. “She belonged to my mom. But I don’t really play with her anymore. I haven’t for years.”
    “Oh, me neither,” said Molly. Then we both grinned and I could tell she was lying too.
    “Over here is the bathroom,” Molly said as she continued across the room. I followed her into an expanse of shining sea-green tile. Silver fixtures gleamed on a highsink. “Do you want to share?” said Molly, holding out a toothbrush with dark bristles that looked as if they might be actual hairs.
    “Eh, no thanks,” I said. “I’ll use my finger to, umm,
wash
my teeth.”
    “Is that how it’s done in the future?” Molly asked. She squirted a thick line of goop onto her brush and began to scrub ferociously.
    I read the tube. The label said it would be
Double-Quick
. It also claimed to be delicious, but when I put a little on my finger and touched it to my tongue, I couldn’t help making a face. There were bubbles in my mouth, actual soapsuds.
Blech
. I missed my Aquafresh.
    When I was finished rinsing, I reached for a stiff-bristled wooden brush on the edge of the sink and attempted to pull it through my hair, which still had snarls in it from the windy car ride the night before. “Ouch!” I winced.
    “Here, let me,” said Molly. Before I could say anything else, she was pushing my shoulders down. I perched on the toilet seat as Molly brushed my hair and then braided it in quick, surprisingly gentle strokes until I had one perfect braid down my back.
    “Nice!” I said, standing to look in the mirror. “Now it’s your turn. Sit!”
    “Really?” She touched her hair. “You don’t have to. It musses again right away.” She shook her curls. “See?”
    “It’s only fair,” I said. “Sit.”
    Molly sat as I wet my hands and then finger-combed her curls until they hung in corkscrews. I added a little bit of lotion I found. It said LEMON VERBENA and smelled nice. I twisted some gently into each curl until it shone. Then I pulled all of Molly’s hair up into a high side ponytail and tied a ribbon around it tightly, so that it stuck straight out. “Cute!” I said.
    “What?” Molly turned her head sharply, so that the ponytail bounced. “Oh my, it feels funny!” She stood up and examined herself in the mirror. “Is this how people wear their hair in the future?” She batted at the bouquet of curls and leaned in for a closer look. “Lopsided?”
    “Not
everyone
,” I admitted. “But Valley Girls do. And rock stars. It’s cool. You just need some dangly earrings.”
    “Rock stars,” Molly asked, staring at herself. “What’s a rock …?”
    Just then we heard a key turn in the lock.
    “Nora!” mouthed Molly, looking back at me.
    “Nora …,” I repeated. I set down the brush.
    “Don’t fret,” Molly hissed. “I have a plan. Follow me.”
    We walked back into the sitting room just as a maidcame in, a tall girl in a black dress and white apron, with a white cap on her head. She was carrying a tray on one arm, so she could close the door with the other. When she saw me, her mouth dropped open. She set