How the Light Gets In Read Online Free Page A

white shorts.
    ‘Maybe it was the uniform that made you look different,’ she says. ‘We don’t wear uniforms at our school.’
    She too sounds as though she has a cold.
    My school has no uniform. I borrowed a navy one withburgundy pinstripes from Mrs Walsh, my English teacher, whose daughters go to private schools. She told me I looked a million dollars in that uniform and she took twenty-four photos of me standing next to her piano. I thought that these photos were the best to send because when somebody is in uniform you can’t tell much about where they come from or what they’re really like.
    Bridget smiles, so at ease considering she is speaking for the first time to a stranger who will live with her, as a sister, for a whole year. She wants to know about the orientation camp in Los Angeles because I sent them a post-card from there every day.
    I tell her all about the campus and the three swimming pools and the library with – I lie – more than seven million books.
    ‘Do you like reading?’ she asks.
    ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Do you have many books?’
    ‘Not seven million, but you wouldn’t be able to read them all in just one year.’
    But , I think, what if I should stay much longer than that?
    James sits on the bed next to his sister as though to gang up on me. ‘Did you know that I’m exactly one year younger than you?’ he says. ‘I’m fifteen and you’re sixteen.’
    ‘Wow,’ I say, wishing the word hadn’t been invented.
    Bridget gets off the bed and stands next to Margaret. She is very tall.
    ‘I need to take a shower,’ she says. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
    James stands and opens the drawers of my empty desk. He is chubby. His skin is pimply around the chin and there is a thin and patchy growth of hair above his top lip, the beginnings of a juvenile moustache.
    He looks at Margaret. ‘Is Louise going to do chores too?’
    ‘Call me Lou,’ I say.
    Margaret smiles at me as though to tell me not to worry.
    ‘But isn’t Lou a boy’s name?’ says James.
    ‘Don’t tease,’ says Margaret.
    She sees that my face is red and puts her hand on James’ shoulder. ‘Okay. Let’s leave Lou in peace for a little while before dinner.’
    ‘That’s no problem,’ I say.
    James continues to look at my face even though I’m blushing, and when I redden further still he looks down at my suitcases, then straight back up at me and says, ‘Don’t you think you should unpack all your presents and stuff?’
    He’s still staring at my face, fascinated, curious, wondering what will happen to it next.
    ‘Come on,’ says Margaret, pulling the door closed behind them. ‘Let Lou have some peace.’
    I lie down on my stomach and moments later James comes back. He leans over me, as though to whisper, but he does not whisper. His voice is loud, almost angry.
    ‘What IQ did you need to score to get into that gifted school, or whatever it’s called that you go to?’
    I sense the danger in telling him, and the equal yet different danger in not telling him. I whisper the answer, and like everybody else, his reaction is a combination of impressed, depressed and disbelieving.
    ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘that’s pretty phenomenal.’
    He leaves quickly without looking at me again. At least he didn’t ask me whether I’m going to find a cure for cancer or why I don’t work for the space program or why I don’t play chess and win millions of dollars or something.
    Finally, with the thesaurus opened on my chest, I drift into sleep, but Henry wakes me by rapping on my door. ‘Time to hit the road!’ When I don’t answer, he opens the door and looks in.
    ‘Sorry,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘It’s time to go.’
    ‘Wait,’ I say. He comes into my room. ‘I just want to say thanks heaps for letting me come and live with you.’
    Henry sits on the bed, the top three buttons of his shirt open now, almost-albino blond hair on his chest, rising and falling with his deep breaths. He leans awkwardly to put