Paper Cuts Read Online Free Page A

for Keira.’
    ‘Maybe he doesn’t get it. He is a guy, you know.’
    She zips the empty suitcases closed and looks at me.
    ‘He has to get it. There are no do-overs with kids.’
    I stare back at her, amazed at how mature she seems all of a sudden. This is probably the most grown-up conversation we’ve ever had. She must be seeing me as her equal at last. Maybe this breakup has given us a fresh start.
    ‘Paz will come around,’ I say. ‘He’ll miss you.’
    Sighing, she pulls me to my feet. ‘You’d better grab some dinner and get down to Dan’s.’
    ‘I don’t work Tuesdays. It’s your shift.’
    The eyebrow studs rise. ‘I can’t work tonight. I just left my husband.’
    ‘Did I miss a wedding?’
    ‘My point is, Keira needs her mother.’
    Given the circumstances I should probably let it ride, but I know if I don’t set some boundaries quickly, my sister will mow me down like a runaway stroller. ‘Grace, I have a life. You can’t just move back in here and take over.’
    ‘Fine,’ she says, pulling a rumpled, red-and-white gingham dress from a pile on the bed. ‘I’ll work. But I don’t have a sitter, so you’ll have to watch Keira. She’ll be upset when she wakes up and I’m not here.’
    Working suddenly sounds more appealing. ‘I’ll cover your shift, but I’m not doing it all the time.’
    ‘Heaven forbid perfect little Lu gets off her ass to help out the family.’
    All the reasons I resent Grace start flooding back to me.‘Don’t even start. I help out all the time. It’s not my fault you decided to have a kid.’
    ‘It isn’t mine, either!’
    Grace’s mistakes are always someone else’s fault.
    The shouting wakes Keira, and she quickly works up a howl. I snatch my backpack and make my escape.
    So much for fresh starts.

    No matter how bad a day I’ve had, it gets better the moment I step off the bus in front of Dan’s Diner and breathe in the scent of chocolate. Donner’s Chocolate Factory just up the street cloaks the entire neighborhood in a sweet, rich cloud. A few years ago some locals complained about the smell, and the plant added new filters. Fortunately they don’t work very well.
    I cross the road, watching Shirley, a full-time waitress, through the diner’s big front window. She’s refilling ketchup bottles at the counter, her bleached blond hair teased, as always, into a beehive. From here she looks quite young, but the illusion shatters at close range. She is sixty-three, and garish makeup pools in the wrinkles on her face. Her lips are lined with fuchsia pencil and filled in with frosty pale pink lipstick.
    ‘What a nice surprise,’ she says when I walk in. ‘Grace usually does Tuesdays.’
    Shirley and Grace aren’t fond of each other. Both are brassy and opinionated, and naturally, none oftheir opinions overlap. When the baby was born, Shirley said the name‘Keira’ was too trendy for her liking. Grace retaliated by saying Shirley’s makeup was too tacky for her liking, and they’ve never really patched things up.
    I explain that Grace will cover a shift for me later in the week, which had better be true. With my new column to think about, I can’t afford to work many extra hours.
    The diner has a capacity of fifty people, and on weekends we often reach it. Tonight it will be busy for a couple of hours over dinner, but manageable with two servers. The three oversize booths along the front window are already full, as are a few of the stools at the counter.
    I head to the restroom to change into my uniform. Mom used to make me wear it on the bus, but I dug my heels in last year after hearing one too many yee-haws.
    Dan Kennedy only spent the first ten years of his life in Texas, but the way he works a theme, you’d think he was fresh off the horse. He walks with a permanent, bowlegged swagger, talks with a Texan drawl, and wears a uniform of Wrangler jeans, denim shirts, and cowboy boots. There are chili pepper twinkle lights hanging from faux