The Truth Against the World Read Online Free Page B

stuck in traffic and wouldn’t be home with Gee Gee until later. Plus, water was pouring out of the sky, complete with thunder and lightning, which would make their drive even slower.
    I really didn’t want to be alone right now. But I didn’t want to brave the storm, either. My steps led me into the kitchen. Silent and empty. Then back to the living room.
    This was crazy. I had to talk to someone . I grabbed my phone, sat in the tiny window seat at the corner of our living room, and called Rae. She would know the right thing to say; she always knew how to distract me, how to make me laugh. The first day we met, in third grade, she made vampire fangs out of French fries and made me snort milk out of my nose in the middle of the cafeteria. We still laughed about that.
    The phone rang seven times, long enough for me to wonder what she was doing and whether she’d been avoiding me all day, and then she finally picked up.
    â€œWhat’s up?” She sounded distracted.
    â€œAre you busy?” I asked.
    â€œUm … kind of,” she said. “I’m helping my mom make wontons for the student government meeting tomorrow.”
    â€œI could help,” I said, frowning. I’d made wontons with Rae and her mom a million times. “I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.”
    â€œEh, they don’t deserve your magic touch,” she said. “Anyway, what’s up?”
    I ticked off each point on my fingers, even though she couldn’t see me. “My house is empty and creepy. My Gee Gee is sick. Mom and Dad keep arguing. Nobody reads my blog. Oh, and I haven’t been sleeping well because I keep having weird dreams.”
    â€œHave you been snacking late? It might be an indigestion problem,” Rae asked innocently.
    â€œHar har.” I looked out the window, down at the street: the rain had stopped. People were shaking off and closing up their umbrellas, either hurrying home with briefcases held close or dressed up and heading out for sushi in Japantown. It was like looking at an aquarium of strange, colorful fish, only I was the one trapped inside the tank.
    The figures blurred behind the wet glass, and I wondered if I should tell Rae the truth: that there was something weird about this dream. Something scary, uncanny. I shuddered, not wanting to think about it.
    Rae spoke again, sounding serious now. “If it’s a real problem, maybe you should tell your parents?”
    I shook my head. “They’ll probably just make me see a therapist. I don’t want to talk to a stranger.”
    â€œBetter a therapist than Chinese herbs,” Rae said. “Trust me, you do not want to drink my mom’s stinky tea. It works, but—” She stopped abruptly and let out an eep . “I’m so sorry, Wyn. I have to go. Listen, though, I think you should talk to someone.” She paused. “Maybe your great-grandma?”
    I thought for a moment. “Maybe,” I allowed.
    â€œOkay, good,” Rae said. “I promise I’ll call you on Sunday, ’kay?”
    â€œOkay,” I said forlornly, and ended the call.
    I leaned my forehead against the cold glass of the window. How could I ever explain something that was so completely off the wall? I hadn’t even known where to start with Rae. I hadn’t even had a chance to tell her how lonely I was feeling.
    Tears welled up in my eyes. I wondered if this was just another thing that was changing, ending, like everything else in my life right now.
    Born to Wyn, May 15, 6:37 p.m.
    It’s raining outside, and everything is slipping through my fingers like water.
    I’m alone. Maybe that’s why it feels like the right time to say this. If any of you are faithful readers of this blog, you should probably know this about me: I have recurring dreams. I always have. But the one I’ve been having lately—it’s different. Scarier.
    In this one, I’m standing in