Down the Rabbit Hole Read Online Free Page A

even more, maybe a whole village. She didn’t feel that sorry for them: They didn’t have to share with Ty.
    Ty: who threw strike after strike on the baseball diamond but whose aim at the toilet was worse than a blind man’s; who required four towels—or as many as were available—to dry himself and left them in a soggy pile; who’d started shaving, which meant using both sinks, his and hers, leaving blood-spotted meringues of foam in each; who, worst of all, was now a brand-new experimenter in the world of men’s cologne. Ingrid stepped under the shower, hot and pounding, and gradually came to life.
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    Mom and Ty were gone by the time Ingrid went downstairs; the school day at Echo Falls High—home of the Red Raiders—started half an hour before the middle school, and Mom drove right by it. Ty got a ride every day, and in the foreseeablefuture would be turning sixteen, getting his license and driving himself to school in a Maserati or Rolls-Royce. Ingrid would be taking the bus till the end of time.
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    Dad was at the table, drinking coffee and reading The Wall Street Journal . Dad always smelled good, like a forest but very faint; whatever the trick was, Ty hadn’t learned it yet. Dad was wearing one of those blue shirts with a white collar and white French cuffs, plus a black tie with orange tigers on it—Dad was a big supporter of Princeton football, although he’d gone to UConn. He was also the handsomest dad around.
    â€œHey, cutie,” he said. “What’s shakin’?”
    â€œNot much. What’s in the paper?”
    Dad turned the pages. He was never in a big hurry in the morning. Dad was the financial adviser for the Ferrand Group, which was really just the Ferrand family, probably the richest in this whole part of the state—the middle school was named after them and so was a dorm at Princeton, where Ferrands had gone since forever and where Ty and Ingrid were headed too if it was the last thing Dad did—and Mr. Ferrand never got to work beforenine. “Let’s see,” Dad said. “Unilever deal didn’t go through, IBM sent another ten thousand jobs to India, plane crash in Benin, wherever the hell that is. The usual.” He put down the paper and said, “When’s your next game?”
    â€œDunno.”
    â€œCheck the fridge.”
    Ingrid checked the schedule on the fridge. “Tomorrow at two.”
    â€œHome or away?”
    â€œHome.”
    â€œAgainst whom?”
    â€œGlastonbury.”
    â€œThey’re the ones with that big fullback? Redhead?”
    â€œMaybe.”
    â€œGot to beat her to the ball, Ingrid.”
    Ingrid was hungry. That waffle on Dad’s plate looked pretty good, but he ate the last bite before she could ask.
    â€œBetter get on the stick,” Dad said.
    Ingrid slung on her backpack.
    â€œAnd work on that left foot of yours. Speed takes you only so far. Got to—”
    â€œâ€”master the fundamentals.”
    Dad laughed. He had a great laugh, rich and musical, and his eyes really did twinkle. “’Bye, cutie.”
    â€œâ€™Bye, Dad.”
    He reached for the phone.
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    The bus stop was a block away, in front of Mia McGreevy’s house. Mia: another cool name. Mia and her mother had come from New York the year before, after the divorce. The bus and Ingrid arrived at the same time, which was almost always the case.
    â€œHey, Mia.”
    â€œHey,” said Mia. She was tiny, with big pale eyes that always looked a little surprised. “Gum?”
    â€œYeah,” said Ingrid, taking a lime-green piece of Bubblicious. She noticed Mia’s mom watching from a window to make sure Mia got on the bus safely, maybe not yet realizing that Echo Falls wasn’t the big bad city.
    â€œYou get that last algebra problem?” Mia said.
    â€œDon’t go there.”
    Mr. Sidney opened the doors. He had on his cap that said BATTLE OF