Goodhouse Read Online Free Page B

touch was electric and startling. It made my whole arm tingle. “I read all the literature your school sent,” she said. “We’re supposed to evaluate your cleanliness, which struck me as bizarre. Wouldn’t the school know how clean you were? You’re hardly likely to get dirty coming over here. I felt like they were all fake questions.” I was so preoccupied with her lightly freckled shoulders and the thick, angry-looking scar on her chest that I didn’t immediately realize she’d gone silent.
    â€œExcuse me?” I asked. I pretended to take a sip of the soda, but kept my lips tightly closed. I didn’t know where to look or what to say, so I stared at a small jeweled barrette that twinkled above her ear. The crystals were a bright, clear blue.
    â€œCan I tell you a secret?” she asked.
    â€œYou probably shouldn’t,” I said.
    â€œI hacked Auntie’s calendar,” she said. “I shifted the dates for Community Day so she wouldn’t know you were coming.”
    â€œWhy?” I said. I glanced at the other yards to make sure we were still alone.
    â€œThey were going to send me to church while you were here,” she said. “Make me help out with the charity suppers, only I’m not allowed to do anything strenuous, so I just fold napkins or sneak into the priest’s office and read his letters. He’s in love with his neighbor’s wife, coveting her and all that. I read it.” She stared right at me, the sort of unflinching look I associated with birds. “Everybody treats me like a glass trinket,” she said. “I get so bored. What are you really thinking?”
    I shook my head as if I didn’t understand. I was only ever thinking about the right thing to say—the thing that would show me in the best light. This wasn’t the same as having thoughts.
    â€œCome on,” she said. “I know you’re thinking something.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t break into other people’s offices and read their letters,” I said.
    She rolled her eyes. “Stop that.”
    â€œAnd also,” I said, “it’s wrong to share pilfered information.”
    â€œPilfered?” She laughed. “What does that even mean?”
    â€œStolen,” I said. I didn’t really think that this was a trap, but I couldn’t take a chance. At school, if you failed to speak up against wrong-thinking you were considered no better than an accomplice.
    â€œCut it out,” she said. “We might only have a few minutes and I want to know everything about you. I’m moving to campus soon. I’ll be living with my dad. I’m going to be doing lots of programming and coding—very dry, very dull. Do you think we can meet secretly?”
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œDad wanted to keep me here,” she said, “but I made myself unwelcome . That’s Auntie’s word.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said.
    â€œDon’t be,” she said. “I consider it a personal triumph. I’m very goal-oriented, and getting kicked out of Meadowlands has been objective number one. Now Dad has to take responsibility or else . Those are Auntie’s words, too.”
    I nodded, but I didn’t quite follow. I was looking at the stone patio and the plentiful trees. I was sure that if I lived in a house like this, I wouldn’t want to leave. “You don’t like it here?” I asked.
    â€œâ€˜All oppression creates a state of war,’” she said. “That’s a quote. And perhaps it’s not explicitly in reference to girls entombed in suburban homes. And perhaps you think that I’m a little dramatic, but I won’t trivialize my experience.”
    She frowned, her expression determined and a little mutinous, as if she expected me to challenge her. “I should get back to work,” I said. I tried to return the root beer.
    â€œNo, no,” she