Then I Met My Sister Read Online Free PDF Page B

any trace of that pound of lard, but it didn’t exactly evaporate into thin air. I look at my food suspiciously.
    “Another beer, sir?” the waiter asks Dad.
    “Uh, sure,” he responds, as if it would be bad manners to turn him down.
    “Your last one,” Mom tells him under her breath.
    “So, Gibson,” Grandma says, “are you and Summer an item?”
    Okay, that one pushes me over the edge. I drop my head and giggle uncontrollably into my chest.
    “Summer!” Mom scolds, which makes me laugh harder.
    “Mother, Summer and Gibson are friends ,” Mom says, enunciating carefully.
    This, too, strikes me as hilarious.
    Mom pokes me in the side with her elbow. “People are staring,” she says through gritted teeth.
    I take a deep breath, look up and glance at Gibs, who looks like he’s being prepped for brain surgery.
    “Sorry,” I say, then erupt into another round of giggles.
    Dad takes another swig of beer, Grandma looks confused, Grandpa looks bored, and Mom shoots me daggers with her eyes.
    Gibs still looks petrified, but now he looks like he’s on the verge of laughter, too.
    “Sorry, sorry!” I repeat. “Can you guys excuse me a minute?”
    I grab Gibs’ arm, and he has no choice but to follow me as I get out of my chair and head toward the front door of the restaurant.
    Dusk is settling as I stagger outside, Gibs in my wake, and sit on the restaurant steps. Gibs sits beside me. We look at each other and dissolve into more laughter. After we both calm down, I impulsively kiss him on the cheek.
    “I’m so glad you’re here.”
    He smiles and waves a stray strand of hair out of his face.
    “Your family is …” He struggles for an adjective.
    “Exhausting? Insane? Dysfunctional?” I volunteer.
    He laughs. “I was going for ‘nice.’ ”
    I peer into the setting sun and shake my head. “Nah. That one definitely doesn’t make the cut.”
    We press our legs together to make room for a couple squeezing past us on the steps.
    “They are nice,” Gibs insists as a breeze brushes against our cheeks. “And scintillating conversationalists, I might add. I totally enjoy lengthy discourses about my name.”
    I wrinkle my nose at him and we laugh some more. “Can we just call you Joe from now on?” I say.
    Gibs shakes his head. “Let’s go with Fred. That’s your grandfather’s name, right? Might win me some points.”
    I peer into his eyes. “You’re blushing,” I say in a light tone. “Why are you blushing?”
    Which makes him blush even more. I’m still studying his face, but he’s staring at his fingers.
    Might win me some points. Does Gibs think that I thought he was coming on to me? Was he coming on to me?
    Nah. Like I said, he’s just not there yet. Which is cool. I mean, the last thing I want to do is ruin a great friendship with lust. Besides, lust doesn’t work out so well for me under the best of circumstances. I haven’t crushed on a guy since Leah Rollins unceremoniously stole Josh DuBois from me in ninth grade.
    I shudder at the thought, not because I’m still crushing on Josh DuBois (I’m not), or because I still detest Leah Rollins for her betrayal (I do, but whatever), but because that whole puerile scenario makes me want to puke.
    So if I figure Gibs has another five years to go before he realizes he’s totally hot, I’ve got at least that long to go before I have the stomach for Josh DuBois, the Remix.
    Yep. Friendship suits me just fine.
    Another couple squeezes past us, and Gibs and I huddle closer, glancing at them apologetically.
    “We really should go back inside,” he observes.
    I take a deep breath and blow out through my mouth. “Ready for round two?” I nod toward the door.
    He stands up and extends his hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet.
    “Bring it on,” Gibs says.

Seven
    I’m settling into bed, still stuffed from Japanese food, but I’m not turning off my light just yet.
    I glance at the journal on my bedside table, pause a second, then pick