Thirteen Read Online Free PDF Page B

or whatever. “On the other hand, don’t.”
    â€œBut what should I do?” Ty asked.
    â€œWell, let’s think about it,” I said. We were in the backyard, squished together in the hammock. Ty was warm and little-kid sweaty against me. “On the playground, when y’all have break, what does Lexie like to do?”
    â€œShe and Claire chase boys and try to kiss them,” he said.
    â€œDoes she chase you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œI don’t know. Do you know?”
    â€œHmm,” I said. I loved that he thought I might, but it was a burden, too. Sometimes it was as if he saw me as God, when I was so not. “When Lexie and Claire are doing that, what do you do?”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œYou just sit there like a lump?”
    â€œI walk around the edge of the playground. And I look at things.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œLexie.”
    My brother, the stalker. Lovely.
    â€œSometimes I tell her to fall down,” he went on, “but only when she can’t hear me.”
    â€œWhat? Why would you do that?”
    â€œIf she hurt her knee, I could take her to the office,” he said. “I could take her to get a Band-Aid.”
    It made my heart ache, this honesty of his. And the sweetness of wanting to take Lexie to get a Band-Aid. I imagined him standing on the fringes, orange duct tape radiating from his pants cuffs, and, like me, just wanting something more .
    â€œIf I were in first grade, I would totally chase you,” I told him.
    â€œAnd try to kiss me? On the lips?”
    â€œDo Lexie and Claire kiss the boys on the lips ?” I said incredulously.
    He shrugged. “Maybe.”
    Whoa. If so, they’d gone further than I had. How pathetic was that?
    â€œLet’s just swing,” I said. I nudged the grass to make the hammock sway.
    â€œOkay. We can be baby spiders, and we can’t touch the ground or the birds will get us.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œAnd you are my big sister bird. I mean spider. Reek! Reek! ”
    Is that what baby spiders said? Reek reek?
    He said it again, in distress.
    â€œIt’s all right, baby spider,” I said, pulling him close. “I’m here.”
    Â 
    On Friday morning, I woke up early so that I could get in and out of the shower by seven. Today was Sandra’s seventeenth birthday (twenty-six days after mine), and this was my present to her. This way Sandra could take a super long shower and not be rushed. I’d also made her a pair of earrings, but I’d give them to her later.
    Over breakfast—which Sandra actually had time to sit down and eat, thanks to me—I asked her what her birthday plans were. She said she didn’t know, that she’d probably do something with Elizabeth and Raelynn. Which I thought was wrong. Why wasn’t she spending it with Bo?
    â€œYou don’t think friends are as important as a boyfriend?” she said when I asked.
    â€œWell, sure, but—”
    â€œThat is so lame,” she said. “You would make the worst feminist.”
    â€œThat’s not true!” I said. “I’m totally a feminist. I’m a great feminist!”
    â€œ Pfff ,” Sandra said, and not entirely without reason. I wasn’t actually sure I was a feminist. Truth be told, I wasn’t exactly sure what being a feminist meant, other than sometimes they didn’t shave their legs, and, yeah, um, that wasn’t going to happen.
    â€œBut what about Bo?” I asked.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œAre you guys still fighting?”
    â€œWhen were we fighting? What makes you think we’re fighting?”
    â€œBecause…” I didn’t like putting it in words. “That day, you didn’t answer when he called.”
    â€œI didn’t answer one phone call. Big deal. I was annoyed with him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt was stupid. I was totally being