The Third Twin Read Online Free PDF Page A

given him my phone number.”
    “I should have handed him a slip of paper with your bra size on it, that would have done the trick.” Lisa had a big bust.
    Lisa stopped walking. For a moment Jeannie thought she had gone too far and offended Lisa. She began to frame an apology. Then Lisa said: “What a great idea! ‘I’m a 36D, for more information call this number.’ It’s so subtle, too.”
    “I’m just envious, I always wanted hooters,” Jeannie said, and they both giggled. “It’s true, though, I prayed for tits. I was practically the last girl in my class to get my period, it was so embarrassing.”
    “You actually said, ‘Dear God, please make my tits grow,’ kneeling beside your bed?”
    “Actually I prayed to the Virgin Mary. I figured it was a girl thing. And I didn’t say tits, of course.”
    “What did you say, breasts?”
    “No, I figured you couldn’t say breasts to the Holy Mother.”
    “So what did you call them?”
    “Bristols.”
    Lisa burst out laughing.
    “I don’t know where I got that word from, I must have overheard some men talking. It seemed like a polite euphemism to me. I never told anyone that before in my life.”
    Lisa looked back. “Well, I don’t see any good-looking guys following us. I guess we shook off Brad Pitt.”
    “It’s a good thing. He’s just my type: handsome, sexy, overconfident, and totally untrustworthy.”
    “How do you know he’s untrustworthy? You only met him for twenty seconds.”
    “All men are untrustworthy.”
    “You’re probably right Are you coming to Andy’s tonight?”
    “Yeah, just for an hour or so. I have to shower first.” Her shirt was wet through with perspiration.
    “Me too.” Lisa was in shorts and running shoes. “I’ve been training with the hockey team. Why only for an hour?”
    “I’ve had a heavy day.” The game had distracted Jeannie, but now she winced as the agony came flooding back. “I had to put my mom into a home.”
    “Oh, Jeannie, I’m sorry.”
    Jeannie told her the story as they entered the gymnasium building and went down the stairs to the basement. In the locker room Jeannie caught sight of their reflection in the mirror. They were so different in appearance that they almost looked like a comedy act. Lisa was a little below average height, and Jeannie was almost six feet. Lisa was blond and curvy, whereas Jeannie was dark and muscular. Lisa had a pretty face, with a scatter of freckles across a pert little nose and a mouth like a bow. Most people described Jeannie as striking, and men sometimes told her she was beautiful, but nobody ever called her pretty.
    As they climbed out of their sweaty sports clothes Lisa said: “What about your father? You didn’t mention him.”
    Jeannie sighed. It was the question she had learned to dread, even as a little girl; but it invariably came, sooner or later. For many years she had lied, saying Daddy was dead or disappeared or remarried and gone to work in Saudi Arabia. Lately, however, she had been telling the truth. “My father’s in jail,” she said.
    “Oh, my God. I shouldn’t have asked.”
    “It’s okay. He’s been in jail most of my life. He’s a burglar. This is his third term.”
    “How long is his sentence?”
    “I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter. He’ll be no use when he comes out. He’s never looked after us and he’s not about to begin.”
    “Did he never have a regular job?”
    “Only when he wanted to case a joint. He would work as janitor, doorman, security guard for a week or two before robbing the place.”
    Lisa looked at her shrewdly. “Is that why you’re so interested in the genetics of criminality?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Probably not.” Lisa made a tossing-aside gesture. “I hate amateur psychoanalysis anyway.”
    They went to the showers. Jeannie took longer, washing her hair. She was grateful for Lisa’s friendship. Lisa had been at Jones Falls just over a year, and she had shown Jeannie around when she had