Three Little Words Read Online Free PDF

short and strong, with a round face, brown eyes and thick dark hair—but she laughs now when she says it. She calls her mother and grandmother the Polish Princesses: high cheekbones, long legs, full lips, straight blond tresses. When she turned thirteen, Chloe got something her mother and grandmother didn’t have: big breasts and a high round butt. Or, as she calls them, B&B: boobs and booty. Almost overnight, she shed her oversize T-shirts and baggy sweats in favor of mini-skirts and tank tops, but Sid has never seen her in anything as revealing as the bikini she has on now. It occurs to him that over the years, Chloe’s bathing suits have gotten smaller and his have gotten bigger. Right now he’s grateful for his baggy board shorts.
    â€œYou like?” Chloe twirls around as if she’s in a ball gown. Her butt is bursting out of another microscopic cobweb of material. Caleb coughs and goes to the kitchen.
    â€œUh, sure,” Sid says. “Don’t you want to put on a T-shirt or something though?” He can’t see how it would be comfortable to ride for half an hour over the bumpy island roads clad only in what is essentially a sexy doily collection.
    Chloe laughs. “That’s why I have this,” she says, slipping on a sheer flowered tunic that barely covers her butt. “I got it on eBay. Isn’t it awesome? It’s Tory Burch.”
    â€œTory Burch. Wow.” Sid has no idea who Tory Burch is, but he knows he’s supposed to be impressed. “Those too?” he asks, pointing to Chloe’s feet. Her flip-flops have big pink flowers between the toes.
    â€œNo, silly. Old Navy,” Chloe replies. “Five bucks. And yeah, I know—not good for a long bike ride. I brought these.” She holds up an ancient pair of Tevas. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
    â€œNever said you were,” Sid replies as they head out the door to their bikes.

Hear Me Out
    W hen Sid and Chloe return at the end of the day, hungry and sunburned, a car Sid has never seen is in the driveway. It’s an ancient red Ford Woodie in mint condition, with the words Windfall Woodworking by Phileas Phine painted in curving white script on the side. What kind of people name a kid Phileas? Sid wonders as he puts his bike in the shed.
    â€œAwesome car,” Chloe says when he comes out.
    â€œProbably another kid,” Sid says, although he can’t imagine why someone with a car like that would be delivering a child to Megan. Usually social workers drive drab, dusty sedans—silver or beige. “You coming in?” he asks Chloe.
    â€œNope,” she says, hopping back on her bike. “Gotta shower. My hair’s a disaster. Me and some of the girls are going to town tonight. Craig’s driving. Wanna come?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Sid says. “Thanks for asking though.” He can think of nothing he’d enjoy less than a night in town with that asshole Craig and a bunch of giggling girls. Chloe’s girlfriends are okay, but he can never think of anything to say to them. He doesn’t watch the same movies or listen to the same music. He doesn’t own a cell phone—service on the island is spotty at best—or have high-speed Internet access.
    â€œCall me,” Chloe yells over her shoulder as she rides off.
    Sid climbs the steps to the front porch and pauses with his hand on the worn brass doorknob. After a day in the sun with Chloe, all he wants is quiet and solitude, but if there’s a guest in the house or a new kid, he’s going to have to suck it up. Megan raised him to be polite. You don’t have to say much , she told him over and over when he was growing up. But you do have to be polite. A firm handshake is good, mumbling and staring at the floor is bad. Ignoring people is the worst. Maybe today he’ll be able to get away with a quick hello and a dash up the stairs to the shower.
    As