Beware That Girl Read Online Free

go, over and over again. I could hear the rain pinging off the sheet-metal roof on the back shed. I should study. I should touch up my nails. I should…but I couldn’t. I pushed it away, but it pushed back—the evidence, the memory. See, I was a liar even then, even when I was ten.

    The peeling wood-framed windows were eight feet tall. They had that old wavy kind of glass that was useless against the cold but made the sunshine extra pretty. Class hadn’t even started and already chalk dust was swirling and somersaulting in long skinny beams of captured sun. I got hypnotized by stuff like that. Not this time, though. This time I stood at attention in front of the teacher’s desk. Chalk, erasers, a box of HB pencils and paper clips were in the first drawer on the left. A strap was all by itself in the second one, and a Bible and pink crystal rosary beads were in the bottom.
    “But see, the thing is…the nuns are always the worst!” I shifted from one foot to the other. “No offense or anything.”
    “None taken.” Sister Rose smiled. “And just why is that, Katie?”
    “Well, you know, they…you all make such a big deal about it, especially, especially on the Friday before Father’s Day. Everyone feels all sorry for me and gives me these fake sad looks.”
    This would have been enough for Mrs. Cotter, my grade four teacher back at St. David’s. Sister raised one pretty eyebrow.
    “But lying is a sin, Katie.”
    Sister Rose was tougher than she looked.
    “But, Sister, it isn’t a lie. Not really. All I’m asking is that I be allowed to do what I do every year. You said it was real touching and everything when I told you about it a while ago. Remember?”
    Sister nodded.
    “I still make my Father’s Day card, just like the rest of the class. Then, after school, I walk over to Prospect Park, which used to be Dad’s favorite, and then, then I bury the card in the flower bed in the corner. And then I wish him a happy Father’s Day!” I gave her the smile I’d been practicing since 6:20 a.m.

    Sister raised her eyebrow again.
    “After I’ve prayed for the deliverance of his immortal soul.”
    I checked the clock: 8:25. The bell would ring at 8:30.
    “So all I’m saying—I mean, asking—is that since this is a new school for me, couldn’t we please, just this once, not tell the whole class that poor Katie’s father is dead? And, and then make everyone count their blessings by saying fifteen rosary rounds at recess? I don’t want them to feel sorry for me, and I really don’t want them to hate my guts because of the stupid rosary rounds. No offense. Sorry, Sister.”
    “None taken, Katie.” She patted my hand.
    Sister Rose had soft, cool hands all the time, no matter what. All nuns have soft, cool hands. It’s like a holy thing.
    “So you see? We’re not lying, not really. Not even with that ‘by omission’ thing, because it’s not like anyone’s asking. See? We just don’t have to advertise it.”
    Sister Rose looked down at her hands. Her lashes seemed to shade half her face.
    “And, and…I’ve been praying on it for weeks—real hard, like—and, well, and I bet that Jesus would be okay with all of this.”
    Sister bit her lower lip and frowned. She did this whenever she was trying to stop herself from laughing.
    “You are impossible, Katie.”
    “That’s what my mom says, Sister.”
    She shook her head.
    I had her.
    The bell rang.
    “Okay, Katie,” she sighed. “We won’t make an announcement about your deceased father. No rosary novenas.” She put her soft, cool hand on mine again. “This will be our little secret, Katie. Not a lie, a secret.”
    You had to hand it to me.
    I was good.

    We got to the card-making right after religious studies. Mary-Catherine and I worked on ours together. Mary-Catherine had a deeply superior artistic soul. Just like me. So we’d been best friends since practically my first week at St. Raymond’s. Mary-Catherine knew about it all. Well,