Relativity Read Online Free Page A

thunder. It’s about to rain.
    I attempt a nonchalant laugh at myself, but it comes out as a high-pitched giggle. I think of George and his iPhone thesaurus app. Bananas, loco, out to lunch, mad as a hatter.
    As I jog into the cornfield, I take one last look over my shoulder at the tree. And that’s when—for a split second, I swear—it seems to be glowing.

Chapter Two
    The rotisserie chicken is greasy, the pepperoni pizza worse, making dinner delicious-disgusting. Dad also bought the token iceberg salad with approximately three carrot shavings. A glob of ranch dressing is its only hope. I’m seeing a pattern here. Last night was fried chicken with a side of mayo—I mean coleslaw. The night before was ribs from Pig-Out. Dad could cook if he tried, but he can’t pry himself away from work long enough to boil an egg. At least back in California, we had top-notch takeout. Burmese noodles, eggplant rollatini, burritos with fresh guacamole.
    I sit at the kitchen table, armed with a stack of napkins, expecting someone to join me. But Willow and Dad flop down on the family room couch to watch the news, and Kandy takes her plate upstairs.
    Fun times.
    I send George my tenth text of the day (BORING! Tho there’smystery tree in backyard. Buzzes. Full of locusts) and immediately begin checking for his response.
    Are there locusts in Ohio, or some kind of termite that eats a tree from the inside out? I don’t know. It’s more likely there’s something underground nearby, like a generator or transformer, and the vibrations are resonating enough to shake the tree. I think of the dozens of minor tremors I felt in California; there could be a seismic zone running through Ennis. I’m not sure about locusts, but I know there are fault lines all over the Midwest.
    If it weren’t so late, I could have Dad drive me to the library. I could check to see if the electric company has an underground hub near the tree, or if any sinkholes have collapsed. Maybe there’s an underground river.
    And if people really did die trying to cut the oak down, there must be something in the library archives about it. There would be newspaper articles and obituaries. Those clues would provide a way into the research. But I’ll have to wait until morning when the library opens, probably at nine.
    Dad slides over toward Willow to make room for me on the couch, so I settle in to watch TV with them for a while. It’s annoying. They’re both channel surfers, stealing the remote from each other at every opportunity. My phone vibrates and I eagerly read George’s text: At movie. Trning phone off. Srry.
    Bummer. He’s putting on 3-D glasses without me, at the movie we were supposed to see together. Which makes me wonder who he’s with. Maybe his brother, but what if it’s Jamie? What if they’re getting back together? I send Jamie a text that says Whatcha up 2 2nite?then toss the phone onto the coffee table. She hasn’t been keeping in touch, so she might not even respond. So far the only contact she’s made was when she posted a message on my Facebook wall: How’s it going in Cowville?
    Dad eats the last of his chicken, leans forward, and scribbles on a piece of paper. Copywriting inspiration has struck. Even when he’s not working, he’s thinking about it. It’s like constant background noise.
    “Did you figure out the spinach-artichoke label?” I ask.
    He nods, holds up a finger for me to give him a second. He scratches out what he just wrote, then writes something else. “I’m on to the gnocchi packaging now.”
    “Squishy pasta-potato things, only good with buttery sauce.”
    “I’ll try to remember that,” he says, smiling.
    “It’s catchy,” Willow agrees. She pulls the cheese off her pizza and rolls it into a ball before popping it into her mouth.
    “That’s kinda gross,” I say.
    “Ruby,” Dad warns.
    “She’s right.” Willow winks at me. She stacks her pepperoni slices, one on top of the other, and eats them all at