Theodora Twist Read Online Free

quickie wedding in our old backyard, I went from mopey member to tissue-dispensing leader. Right now we have two parental deaths, one parental abandonment, one pet death, one runaway older sister, and one best friend abandonment. Not everyone comes every week. But I’m always there, just in case.
    “Thanks, Em,” Stew calls out at the silence in the house.
    I shake my head and wait for my mom to at least roll her eyes or make a joke about Stew’s cluelessness, but Sophie fusses a bit and my mom bounces her in her arms, then heads toward the living room. I want her to turn around, ask me what’s wrong again, put her arm around me. Something. Anything. But she just walks away.
    “Zach broke up with me,” I whisper to her back.
    She whirls around. “What? When?”
    “Fifteen minutes ago,” I say, comforted by her concern.
    She lets out an annoyed breath. “Emily, if you knew it wasn’t serious between you two, I wish you hadn’t dragged me to the mall last Saturday to buy a two-hundred-dollar dress for the prom.” She shakes her head. “Money’s tight right now on just the one income, and I could have used a break instead of running around from store to store. And Stew had to watch Sophie on his day off.” More head shaking. More annoyed face.
    Poor Stew! He had to babysit his own daughter!
    And I thought my mother enjoyed our shopping trip as much as I did. Guess not.
    Last Saturday, just after my mom put Sophie down for her nap, I asked if she’d mind going prom dress shopping with me.
    “You have a date?” she said. “How exciting!”
    “Well, he hasn’t asked yet, but I’ve been seeing Zach for a week, like every day. He even referred to himself as my boyfriend. It’s just a matter of time till he brings up the prom—or I do.”
    For a second she looked like she was going to cry. “Oh, Emily. I am so sorry that I didn’t even realize you had a boyfriend. God, I’ve been wrapped up in Sophie, huh?”
    “It’s okay, Mom.”
    “No, it’s not okay. Give me five minutes to get out of these sweats and put on some lipstick and we’re off.”
    I had the best time. It was just the two of us, no Stew, no Sophie, just me and my mom, talking, sharing, laughing, like it used to be.
    I stare at her for a second, then run upstairs.
    “Emily,” she calls. “Emily, wait.” I hear her walking to the stairwell. “Em, come on downstairs. Let’s talk. I can’t just leave Sophie on the floor and I need to get her back to sleep—”
    “Just forget it,” I call down. “I’m fine. Belle and Jen are here.”
    Thank God.

Theodora
    The next reporter is my last. She doesn’t get personal. No questions about how many guys I’ve been with (or in what combinations). No questions about my relationship with my mother or how many calories I ingest daily. It’s insane that the shoes I wear or what I think about the president or who I’m dating is of national interest, but it is, apparently. Last week I bought a brown leather bracelet for four bucks from a street vendor in New York City, and the next day, six magazine editors called Ashley to arrange shoots for photo spreads: Theodora Wears the Hottest Trend in Jewelry! Unbelievable. I wonder what would happen if I started walking around naked.
    My entourage returns just in time to hear me give Ashley-proofed answers to the final few questions. Ashley is yakking on her cell; my publicist is schmoozing with the reporter; my personal assistant, Larissa, a tall, jumpy twenty-something with really long hair, is pulling out my walk-around-the-hotel disguise from the giant bag she carries everywhere. Having a personal assistant is as great as it sounds, by the way. If I’m sunbathing in my backyard and want a Diet Coke, I call her and she appears from her office in my house with an icy bottle. I don’t actually deal much with Larissa, since Ashley is the one who schedules her days.
    Someone takes off the tiny mike clipped to my dress. The director’s assistant