The Truth about Us Read Online Free PDF Page B

Jess,” she commands. “Nance. You go and wait for me in your room.”
    I silently find my shorts and shirt and pull them on. My face is hot and it’s not only from the time in the sun. Nance is gone by the time I go to the front door to find my shoes.
    Mrs. Green drives me home in silence. When we pull up to my house, she turns to look at me.
    â€œYou’re not to wake your mom,” she says. “Your dad asked you not to. You’re supposed to wait up for him.”
    I nod, my head down, concentrating on my hands in my lap.
    â€œJess?” I hear concern in her voice. “Are you okay? Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”
    â€œNo. I’m fine. I’m very sorry,” I say. I can’t look at her or I’ll cry. Tears bunch up in the corners of my eyes. Nance and I were stupid. So stupid. I move my head so my hair falls in front of my face, hiding me.
    â€œI hope so,” she says with a sigh.
    I open the door. “I am sorry,” I say again.
    â€œGood-bye, Jess,” she says right before I close the door behind me.
    The house is quiet. There’s no movement from Mom’s room. Allie isn’t home. I sit on the couch and stare at the floor. I don’t have to wait long before my dad arrives.
    He closes the door quietly behind him, but his face is white he’s so angry. “I don’t understand you, Jess,” he says.
    I expect him to yell, but he doesn’t.
    â€œNot only were you drinking and sunbathing topless. MasterCard called me,” he says in a quiet voice. “You charged over ten thousand dollars to our account? For a dress?”
    â€œIt had ostrich feathers,” I tell him and close my eyes. It doesn’t seem hilarious anymore. Or like the perfect prom dress. I don’t tell him Mom gave me permission to buy a dress. I’m stupid but not that stupid.
    I wait. But there’s no yelling. Nothing.
    Finally I open my eyes and what I see shocks me more than anything.
    He’s sitting on his leather chair. His favorite chair. Across the room. His head is in his hands. His shoulders are shaking.
    He’s crying?
    I’ve never seen him cry in my life.
    I feel even worse.

chapter four
    â€œShe’ll work here for the whole summer,” Dad says to the woman on the other side of the table. Stella is the volunteer coordinator at New Beginnings, the missionary shelter on Broad Street. For years I’ve been warned to stay away from Broad Street by the very man who dragged me here this morning.
    Dad clears his throat, and I keep my head down since he’s acting like I’m not there anyway. “Every day you need her, she’s available,” he says to Stella.
    His arms are crossed, and he’s leaning back in his chair. His hair is slicked back, as if he’s in a competition to keep every piece perfectly in place. He’s ignoring me, his body tilted slightly away, his chin up. The problem is he’s my dad, and I’m biologically programmed to want his approval. No matter how huge an asshole he is. Truthfully, I’ve been an asshole too. I think of what I did, and I’m hit by another tsunami of guilt. But this? He’s taking the punishment a little bit overboard.
    â€œWe’ll work her shifts out,” says Stella, watching me. She has potted plants on a ledge of wood by the tiny window in her office. Green leaves reach down to the floor like they’re bowing to Stella. It’s the only thing I like about the place.
    â€œWell. Whenever you need her. She’s available,” my dad tells her.
    Stella tilts her head slightly, chewing a pen, studying me like I don’t belong. I agree, but she looks out of place in the stale room too. She’s colorful and vibrant. Everything in this multistoried building looks old and run-down. I pretended not to notice the people hanging around the building when we came inside. The tired-looking men with bad teeth