The Tutor Read Online Free PDF

She didn’t like being reminded of that empty one. “Thanks for the drive.”
    “Anytime, honey,” said Mr. Gudukas.

    T he sky was already that dark blue and purple color that Ruby didn’t like, the color of the bottom of the deep cold sea. The house was dark too. She wished she’d turned some lights on in the morning, and had a funny thought as she unlocked the door:
Mrs. Lot comes home.
Could make a good caption for one of those
Far Side
cartoons that were so funny, although what sort of picture would—
    Zippy bolted out the moment she opened the door, streaked right by her, made a beeline for the Strombolis’ house across the street. His feet on their driveway, or his motion or something, triggered all their outdoor lights, which flashed on like Christmas. Zippy couldn’t have been more visible, darting up to their front door—a huge gleaming thing, big enough for a castle, the gleams clear from all the way across the street—darting up to that front door, lifting his leg and peeing all over it. Ruby could see the yellow stain flowing slowly down, the lights were that good. Zippy couldn’t have done a worse thing. The Strombolis hated him, hated the whole family because of him. Lights were going on all over their goddamn house.
    Ruby had read about people freezing in a crisis, completely paralyzed. She hadn’t believed it till now, now that she appeared to be one of them, even incapable of that one simple step into the house, banging the door closed, safety. And now came Zippy, pelting back across the street, all four paws in the air at once, his ears going every which way. As he hit the front lawn, the Strombolis’ huge gleaming door started to open. Ruby couldn’t budge. Zippy, eyes wide, bowled smack into her, knocking her clear into the front hall. Ruby kicked the door closed as she fell, backpack and tennis racket flying, M&M’s clicking across the tile floor.
    Ruby lay in darkness, Zippy panting beside her. She was panting too. She thought of telling him what a bad dog he was, but why? He was hopeless and at the same time he could be worse.
    “Like the hound of the Baskervilles,” she told him. “That would be worse.”
    But he wasn’t listening, was already going after the M&M’s; she could hear them skittering away from him. Ruby got up, started switching on lights. Like idea bulbs in a cartoon; and the moment she had that thought it hit her that tennis and math were a lot alike, the Mad Minute and those stupid four no-ad game sets being almost identical. The backpack thought to that was—
    The phone rang. It made her jump, even cry out a little, although she might have imagined that part. Were the Strombolis nuts? Did they really believe she’d answer?
    The machine picked up. Ruby heard angry Stromboli breathing, then a hang-up. It rang again two seconds later.
    “Knock it off, Strombolis,” Ruby said.
    The machine took the call again. No angry breathing this time. “Anybody home?” said Brandon. Ruby picked up.
    “Hey,” she said. Or maybe,
Hey!
She was glad to hear his voice.
    “Who’s home?”
    “Me.”
    “Who else?”
    “And Zippy. You know what he—”
    “Forget about fuckin’ Zippy.”
    That little explosion took Ruby by surprise. She was silent.
    “Ruby?” he said, his voice not so harsh. “You still there?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be a little late.”
    “How late?”
    “Jesus—”
    “They’re gonna ask.”
    “Okay, okay, not too late. I’m over at Dewey’s.” Ruby heard rap in the background. It sounded like Unka Death, maybe that one about “fuck you all we do.” “Working on an essay,” Brandon added.
    “What’s it about?”
    “What’s that to you?” He hung up without saying good-bye.
    She was just interested, that was all. Big-brother shit: nothing to think twice about, but Ruby looked immediately in the obvious place anyway, at the framed color photograph hanging over the hall table. There was the family at the beach in