Isabelle the Itch: The Isabelle Series, Book One Read Online Free

formal. “She’s doing my paper route for me next week and I’m showing her the ropes.”
    â€œI didn’t know you had a sister. Very nice to meet you, Isabelle.” Mrs. Stern put out her hand. Isabelle stuck out her left hand and immediately realized her mistake. You were supposed to shake with your right. She always got mixed up. Mrs. Stern smiled and shook Isabelle’s left hand as if it were the proper one.
    â€œDo you two fight? I had three brothers and we fought as long as there was breath in our bodies. It didn’t mean anything. We liked each other fine. There it is. What do you think?” Mrs. Stern had led them to a small room with a lot of books and half-painted walls.
    â€œYou have to be careful with green, you know. You don’t want to feel as if you’re twenty thousand leagues under the sea,” she told them. “On the other hand, the illusion of being in a huge meadow with the sun shining isn’t to be sneered at.”
    She put her head to one side and squinted. She reminded Isabelle of a little bird. Her eyes were very light blue and sparkly. Her sneakers had holes in both toes.
    â€œIt looks great,” Philip said.
    â€œIt’s pretty nice,” Isabelle agreed.
    â€œThe good thing about paint is,” Mrs. Stern said, leading them into her red kitchen, “if you don’t like it the day after, you just do it over. Have one.” She passed a plate of brownies. Isabelle took a long time selecting hers.
    â€œI bet you’re looking for the one with the most nuts,” Mrs. Stern said. “That’s what I always did.”
    â€œWe have to get going,” Philip said, chewing. “There’s a lot of things I have to explain. She’s only ten.”
    Isabelle pinched him. Ten wasn’t a baby.
    â€œTen is a nice age,” Mrs. Stern said. “I wouldn’t mind being ten again. Ten or eighteen or maybe even fifty. In retrospect, fifty wasn’t bad either. Stop and see me on Monday, Isabelle. I should have the paint job finished by then.”
    â€œShe has silver eyes,” Isabelle said, running alongside Philip’s bike. “How old do you think she is? Why didn’t you tell me about her? She’s special.”
    â€œShe’s old,” Philip said positively. “She’s a lot older than Mom or Dad or even Grandfather, I think.”
    â€œWhat’s ‘retrospect’ mean?” Isabelle asked.
    â€œLook it up,” Philip said, which meant he didn’t know either.
    â€œI wish you’d told me about Mrs. Stern,” Isabelle said.
    Philip shrugged. “I have forty-eight customers,” he said. “You can’t expect me to fill you in on all of them.”
    â€œBut she’s special,” Isabelle insisted.
    â€œIn that house there, for instance,” he said, ignoring her, “is old Dragon Lady Cudlip. You watch out for her. If you don’t put her paper in between the screen door and the front door, she comes screaming out of the house and makes you do it. You know what she gave me last Christmas? One whole nickel, that’s what.”
    Philip paused dramatically. “A paper route teaches you a lot about human nature. It also teaches you how to separate the cheap skates from the rest of the world, I’ll tell you.”
    They turned into Cottage Street. “Mr. Ball, on the corner, he likes his tucked under the mat with just a corner sticking out.”
    â€œWhy’s he want the corner sticking out?” Isabelle asked.
    â€œThat way he doesn’t have to open his door on cold nights to see if it’s there. He knows whether it is or isn’t. It’s psychology,” Philip said, tapping his forehead. “I’m not sure you’re up to all this.”
    Isabelle had been thinking exactly the same thing but she didn’t want Philip to know. She frowned and thought of things like Monday’s spelling test and