Since You Left Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

She asked me to.”
    “So I can tell her you’re doing it?”
    “Tell her whatever you want,” I say.
    “I will. First thing in the morning.”
    She starts to leave.
    “Wait—”
    “What?”
    “I’m stealing Mom’s phone,” I say.
    “Why?”
    “I’m in trouble.”
    That perks her up. Sweet Caroline loves trouble. Especially other people’s.
    “What kind of trouble?” she says.
    “The kind that gets you thrown out of school.”
    “That’s not a problem.”
    “Why not?”
    “You hate school.”
    “I can’t get expelled. I have to do college applications in a few months. How can I explain something like that?”
    “You can always do a year in Israel. They’ll take anyone.”
    “Very funny,” I say.
    Sweet Caroline hops onto a chair at the kitchen counter.
    “So, what happened?” she says.
    “It’s a secret.”
    “I love secrets.”
    “You can’t tell anyone.”
    “Of course not,” she says. “But how can I keep a secret if I don’t know what the secret is?”
    Before I open my mouth, I know it’s a mistake.
    It’s always a mistake to tell secrets to Sweet Caroline. It’s like the Miranda warnings. Anything you say may be used against you. Only in Sweet Caroline’s case, it will be used against you. But how can I keep this secret without her help?
    I know I shouldn’t say anything.
    But I do.

“You’re in trouble, Sanskrit.”
    I open my eyes. Mom is standing outside my room with my door cracked open. We don’t open each other’s doors in our house without permission. It’s part of Mom’s respect-the-individual policy.
    I sit up, panicked.
    “What kind of trouble?” I say. I’m imagining all manner of terrible things. Sweet Caroline ratted me out. Professors from school came to the door.
    “You’re late for school,” Mom says through the tiny crack.
    Most mothers wake you up before you’re late for school. At least this is what I’ve been told.
    “You overslept,” Mom says. “Sorry.”
    The clock says 8:15. I sit up in bed.
    “Will you drive us?” I say.
    “Sweet Caroline already left. You know how she is.”
    Right. Sweet Caroline sets two alarms, then wakesup before both of them. It’s the definition of anal adolescence.
    “She didn’t bother to wake us up?” I say.
    Mom shrugs. Sweet Caroline’s still a perfect little girl in her eyes. A perfect little girl who goes to a psychologist. But we’re not supposed to talk about that.
    “Of course I’ll drive you. Just let me hop in the shower.”
    Mom closes my door.
    That’s when it hits me. Mom can’t drive me because the school thinks she was in a car accident. If we pull up smiling and waving, it’s going to be a disaster.
    “Mom!” I shout.
    I jump out of bed. The air is cool on my bare legs. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I see a scrawny kid, a miniature version of Dad. I think of Dad crammed into his home workshop surrounded by clutter. The last time he had a date was the middle of the last decade. That does not bode well for my future.
    “Mom!”
    I hear the shower running in the bathroom down the hall.
    I rush back into my room and slide on yesterday’s jeans. Choosing clothes is hard enough on a good day. On a bad day it’s better to just sniff yesterday’s pants and put them back on. Fewer decisions. Less room for error.
    The pocket is heavy. I reach in and pull out Mom’s phone.
    Last night comes rushing back to me.
    I make sure Mom is still in the shower, and I turn on the phone. It takes a minute to warm up, and then the NEW VOICE MAIL window starts to pop.
    “Did you call me?” Mom says. She’s suddenly in my door, dripping wet in a towel.
    I jam her phone into my pocket. The e-mail indicator chimes.
    “What’s that?” she says.
    “Nothing,” I say. “Hey, Mom, forget the ride. I’m going to walk with Herschel this morning instead.”
    “You never walk with him anymore.”
    “That’s not true,” I say, even though it is.
    “Hasn’t school already—”
    “I just