Dismantled Read Online Free Page B

wooden workbench, starts picking up tools.
    “My dad doesn’t like people to touch his stuff,” Emma complains. It’s not RESPECTFUL .
    “He’ll never know,” Mel promises, dropping a large metal rasp back down on the bench with a clang.
    Emma scans the shelves: chain saw, pruning shears, a burned-out headlight. Mostly what she finds is row after row of half-empty paint cans. She picks one up, reads the top: Bone White. She counts the letters in the name: nine. Emma hears from up above what sounds like a cat sneeze.
    There, sitting on the edge of the top shelf, with her long legs dangling over, is Danner, smiling down.
    Danner is a girl with dirty blond hair, just like Emma’s. She’s around Emma’s age. In fact, she could almost be Emma’s twin. Her nose is a little different, her chin a little more pointy, but every now and then, Emma catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror or shop window, and thinks it’s Danner she’s seeing.
    Sometimes Danner shows up in Emma’s clothes, which Emma can’t stand, but Danner always puts them back, clean and folded. Sometimes Danner arrives in some outfit of her mom’s or dad’s. For some reason, she never puts back the clothes she borrows from Emma’s mom. If Danner shows up in Emma’s mom’s new running shorts, you can bet that they’ll either disappear forever or turn up ruined. One time, she borrowed Emma’s mom’s cashmere coat and the next day, it showed up at the bottom of the pool.
    Today, Danner’s wearing Emma’s dad’s old fishing vest.
    Danner gives a little snicker, which is what makes the cat-sneeze noise.
    Emma puts her finger to her lips: hush . Danner puts her own finger to her lips, smile growing wider. Then she takes the finger from her mouth, and rests it on one of the paint cans on the top shelf. Emma shakes her head no! but it’s too late. The paint can crashes down on the floor, the lid pops off, and a thick, dark green paint splatters everywhere.
    Emma’s whole body vibrates with panic. How is she ever going to clean up this mess? If there’s paint on the floor, her dad will know she’s been in his workshop. She should never have come. What was she thinking? She grabs some rags from the shelf. Danner snickers. Emma’s too mad to even look up at her.
    “I’ve got something!” Mel yells. She’s hunched over an old red metal toolbox.
    Emma’s skin gets prickly. She drops the rags into the center of the forest green puddle, leaves Danner and the spilled paint, and moves in for a closer look. There, stuffed into the rusty bottom of the toolbox, is a stack of Polaroids and a heavy black book with the words DISMANTLEMENT = FREEDOM painted across the front.
    “No way!” Mel squeals, picking up the photos and looking at the one on top. “It’s your parents. Look!”
    Emma snatches the photo. Her mom and dad are in the picture, but even though Emma knows it’s her mom and dad, everything about them is different, wrong somehow. Mom’s hair is long and tangly, and Daddy looks like he’s growing a beard. And they’re smiling! They actually look genuinely happy. He has his arm around her. Emma can barely remember the last time her parents touched, with the exception of bumping into each other accidentally, which is always followed by a very awkward Excuse me .
    Beside her parents are two ladies Emma doesn’t recognize. The lady at the far right has short dark hair and is holding a gun. A rifle, like for hunting. The other lady, a blonde, has her head on the shoulder of the gun lady. And the blond lady is showing her middle finger to whoever is taking the photo, which is a dirty thing to do. Like swearing.
    “Check it out!” Mel says, snickering. “She’s giving someone the bird.”
    Emma looks for a bird, but just sees the gun, the girl holding up her middle finger, her mother leaning in to her father, her head on his shoulder.
    Emma stares at the picture so long and hard that she starts to feel dizzy. She knows she’s seeing her