What's Left of Me Read Online Free PDF

altar as Hally’s attention returned to us.
    “No?” Hally said. “No, I guess not. You’ll meet him tonight, then. He really ought to be home. . . . I don’t know why he’d be late.”
    Addie set her soda on the counter and pulled at the bottom of our shirt. “Well, while he’s not here, could I . . .”
    “Oh, right,” Hally said. She blinked and brightened, all smiles again. “Come on. You can choose something from my room. That stain shouldn’t be too hard to wash out.”
    Addie followed her up the stairs, which were covered with a rich, cream-colored carpet that extended to the upstairs hallway. Our socks, I realized, had been soaked in that water, too. They seemed too dirty for this house, this whiteness. Addie checked behind us to make sure we weren’t leaving marks on the carpet. Hally didn’t seem to care at all. She bounded on ahead, toward what must have been her room at the end of the hall, leaving Addie trailing behind.
     I said, whispering though it wasn’t like anyone else could hear.
    We could see it in one of the rooms on the way to Hally’s, a large, complicated-looking thing sprawled over a desk. We’d used computers once or twice at school, and Dad had mentioned, a long, long time ago, getting one once they got cheaper, but then we hadn’t settled and Lyle had gotten sick and there was no more talk of computers.
    Addie paused to stare at it and, by extension, the rest of the room. A bedroom, I realized. A boy’s room with an unmade bed and . . . screwdrivers on the desk. Even more strangely, there was a gutted computer in the far corner—at least I thought it was a computer. I’d never seen one with all the wires hanging out, bright silver parts naked and bared. This was Devon’s room. It had to be, unless there was another member of the Mullan family I’d never heard about. But what sixteen-year-old boy had computers in his room?
    “Addie?” Hally called, and Addie hurried away.
    Hally’s room was ten times messier than her brother’s, but she didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed as she invited us inside and closed the door. She threw open her closet and waved a hand at the clothes hanging inside. “Pick whatever you want. I think we’re about the same size.”
    Her closet was full of things Addie would never wear. Things that said Look at me —too-big tops that hung off one shoulder, bright colors and flashy patterns and jewelry that might have gone well with Hally’s black-framed glasses and dark curly hair but would have looked like dress-up clothes on us. Addie looked for something plain as Hally perched herself on the edge of her bed, but Hally didn’t seem to own such a thing.
    “Can I just, I don’t know . . . wear your spare uniform blouse or something?” Addie said, turning.
    That was when I noticed something was wrong.
    Hally looked up at us from her bed, but there was something in her eyes, something dark and solemn in her stare that made me stop, made me say without hardly knowing why.
    And then slowly, so slowly it was like something deliberate, there was a shift in Hally’s face. That was the only way I could put it. Something minuscule, something no one would have caught if they weren’t staring straight at her as Addie and I were staring now, something no one would have noticed—would have even thought to notice—if they weren’t—
    Addie took a step toward the door.
    A shift. A change. Like how Robby changed to Will.
    But that was impossible.
    Hally stood. Her hair was neat and tidy under her blue headband. The tiny white rhinestones set into her glasses twinkled in the lamplight. She didn’t smile, didn’t tilt her head and say, What are you doing, Addie?
    Instead, she said, “We just want to talk with you.” There was something sad in her eyes.
     I echoed.
    “You and Devon?” Addie said.
    “No,” Hally said. “Me and Hally.”
    A shudder passed through our body, so out