The Only Exception Read Online Free PDF

opening the glass door to examine my grandparents’ DVD collection. Eventually, he holds up The Avengers . I shrug again as I lie down on the long, leather sectional couch, back turned to both screen and idiot.
    Sawyer occupies one of the other sides of the sectional and McKayla emerges, carrying my favorite pillow. Regardless of the fancy sheets I have at my parents’ houses, this is by far my favorite pillowcase ever. It’s white, with big splotches of pink dye here and there. On each splotch is a small gathering of three or four butterflies, with other tiny color spots scattered around them of teal and yellow. The texture is silk-like, but not in the least bit stiff or cold.
    I try to get comfortable, but even after applying the squishy reusable ice pack Grammy gives me wrapped in a towel, I’m still shifting and squirming, switching back and forth from laying on either side to my back. “Do you want some help?” Sawyer offers. I feel like being stubborn, but the discomfort gets the better of me.
    “If you don’t mind,” I reply meekly. He stands and crosses to me.
    “Sit up for a second,” he instructs. I sit up and move the pillow out of the way. He takes it from my hands and arranges it along with a couch pillow to support my head a little bit more. McKayla returns from my room with a scarf and Sawyer ties the ice pack around my face like a blindfold, then returns to his seat. I lay back down, close my other eye and try to relax. The cold seeps through the scarf and slowly numbs the upper right corner of my face. I hear the door shut and someone that’s most likely Daniel plop down in the spot next to Sawyer, when suddenly, music starts playing from the dining room table.
    McKayla hops up and brings my phone over to me. Without taking off my blindfold/ice pack, I answer it. “Hello?”
    “Hey, surfer girl,” my dad greets cheerfully. “How’s Oahu?”
    “It’s good,” I say, only half lying. “How’s Cali?”
    “Oh, the usual,” he replies nonchalantly. “Grammy & Papaw?”
    “Terrific,” I assure. “Waves are good. You should’ve seen me this morning, I was charging on three or four of the waves I caught.” Charging= on fire. Doing well. Tearing it up.
    “Choka!” he laughs, meaning “awesome,” basically. “I’ve gotta go. I just called to make sure you were okay. My next client just got here.”
    “Okay,” I reply. “Love you. Bye, Dad.”
    “Love you too. Bye, Annie.” The line goes dead.
    I hang up and listen to The Avengers on the television for a bit, but the blissful quiet is quickly interrupted again. “Hello?”
    “Hi honey, Grammy and Papaw said you went surfing earlier so I decided I’d try you again,” my mother chatters away. “You’re okay, right?”
    “Yes, Mom, I’m fine,” I fib.
    “Okay sweetheart,” she responds. “I’ve got another call coming and I’ve just arrived at a client’s house. Call you later!”
    “Sure, Mom,” I promise. “Love you.”
    “Love you too,” she echoes. “Bye.”
    “Bye.” Another dead line. As Robert Downey Jr. talking through the television is the only sound in the room, my headache starts to settle back into a dull ache instead of a piercing throb.
    I pull off my blindfold to set my phone on the coffee table in front of me and before I can close my eyes again, Sawyer looks at me curiously. “What?”
    “You didn’t tell them I kicked you in the face,” he says confusedly. I close my eyes and sigh, tying the ice pack back around my face.
    “I didn’t want them to worry,” I reply simply. That’s only sort of the truth. If they heard I had a black eye, my mother would order me forty different kinds of coverup and about fifty different kinds of eye makeup. My dad would most likely want to get me some kind of gadget to hold an ice pack on my eye for me or a robot to do stuff for me. Seriously, when I get hurt, sometimes I just want a dad who will say “walk it off, you’re fine” and a mom who will give