The Best Kind of People Read Online Free PDF

drive to Amanda’s house,” Jimmy suggested, but the reporter blocked their way, in the middle of Lakeside Drive, peering down at his camera, scrolling through his photos.
    “Get out of the way!” Jimmy yelled to the reporter. Sadie laid on the horn again and he moved.
    “If there’s one reporter here in the middle of the night, there’s going to be a million tomorrow,” he said as he turned on the high beams, illuminating the tree-lined winding road, only recently paved, that bordered Woodbury Lake. Sadie’s great-grandfather, a reclusive but wealthy man, had originally owned the lake and all the property that bordered it. Her grandfather had developed it all when he inherited it, selling to twelve families in the 1970s, who all built their dream lakefront homes. Originally a rural area far from the town, it was now the most prestigious address in the township, the suburban sprawl reached its borders, and it was almost walkable from town. Woodbury Lake was quiet and scandal-free, and Sadie knew this was going to be big news for that reason alone.
    When she drove, Sadie habitually watched for bright-eyed bunnies and deer poking their noses out into the road, beeping the horn before turning around the blind corners to warn any oncoming traffic. When she was young enough to still be in a car seat, her father hit a deer. They were alone in the car. Though he’d told her to keep her eyes shut tight until Daddy got back in the car, she’d been unable to stop herself from staring as he dragged the deer through the triangles of the car’s high beams, hauling it by its hind legs into the ditch. When he got back into the car, he reached back and grabbed her hand and squeezed it, saying, “It’s okay, honey. The deer needs to take a long sleep.” His hands were slippery and wet, and he was crying while he spoke, and for weeks she asked him,“Is the deer still asleep? Can we go wake up the deer?” Her father was always a cautious, friendly driver, and she had inherited these traits.
    Within minutes they were on the winding dirt driveway leading to Amanda’s house. It had originally been a log cabin, meant as vacation property for Amanda’s grandparents. When her parents inherited it, they’d moved in and renovated, adding several incongruous-looking wings to the house, all in a boxy modern style, with clean lines and tall, symmetrical grey surfaces. The blend of old and new was dizzying. Joan called it a “pretentious eyesore,” even though Dwell magazine had recently come to take photos of it. Sadie thought it looked as though it belonged to a group of committed off-the-grid activists preparing for the end of the world. Amanda’s father was an architect and her mother a painter. All of her mother’s paintings were of the same human-sized rabbits that looked like they were haunting the viewer. They had sold very well in New York in the 1990s, but now she couldn’t really do anything new. Amanda had told Sadie never to talk about it in front of her mother.
    Jimmy parked the car beside one of Amanda’s father’s many oversized status vehicles. They got out wordlessly, shutting the car doors slowly to make as little noise as possible, and crept towards Amanda’s window at the side of the house. A fox darted across the lawn in the soft light of the full moon. Startled, Sadie grabbed Jimmy’s hand as they watched him retreat behind the smooth block of cedar hedges.
    Amanda sat in her window seat, as though she was expecting them. Her thick brown hair was up in a messy high ponytail; she wore sweatpants and an old basketball T-shirt from their junior high team. She slid open her window and climbed outside.
    “My mom cannot see you here, Sadie. She’ll fucking shoot you,” she said.
    “What did I do?”
    “Your father, apparently, came on to my sister on that ski trip last winter. It’s all coming out now. Apparently, four girls have filed charges.”
    “It’s a lie. You know my dad. You’ve known him since