True Colors Read Online Free Page B

they’d hear her in Canada, and I almost peed my pants. It was a long time before we forgave Keith, and an even longer time before we dared tell ghost stories again. Nadine was forever saying how she
wished
she were an only child, but I often wondered what it would be like to have a brother like Keith. He was tall and handsome, and told even scarier ghost stories than Nadine.
    So I rode down the Tilton driveway, my stomach tumbling with excitement, and looking forward to a summer of swimming, picnics, camping out, baseball, and tons of talking and laughing with my best friend.
    If I’d known how the summer was really going to turn out, I would have wheeled Dolly around and galloped in the other direction.

chapter 5

    Mrs. Tilton and Nadine were just finishing supper when I arrived. Right away, I knew things were different.
    For one, I hardly recognized Nadine; not only had she shot up about a foot, but she’d done something funny with her hair. She’d always had a ponytail; now she looked like she had a Pekingese perched on her head. Second, Nadine didn’t squeal and hug me the way she always did. Third, she and Mrs. Tilton were the only ones at the table.
    Mr. Tilton wouldn’t be here for the summer, Mrs. Tilton said, what with the war and work he had to do for the government. Keith wouldn’t be coming up, either. He’d joined the army and was over fighting in Korea.
    I could hardly imagine a summer without both of them, but I tried not to show how disappointed I was. It wouldn’t be the same without Keith telling ghost stories, or scaringus, or racing me to the raft, but at least Nadine and I would have a good time together.
    “Sit down and join us,” Mrs. Tilton said. “You must be starved.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Feels like my belly button’s trying to shake hands with my backbone.”
    Mrs. Tilton laughed and shook her head.
    “You Vermonters have such quaint expressions,” she said. I didn’t know what
quaint
meant, but I just smiled and sat down while Mrs. Tilton fixed a plate for me.
    “I hope you like chicken divan,” she said.
    I hoped I did, too. Mrs. Tilton served a lot of food I’d never even heard of, things like artichokes and Roquefort cheese and eggplant Parmesan. Nadine swore they even ate snails, but thank goodness Mrs. Tilton had never put any of those in front of me.
    Mrs. Tilton wasn’t like anybody I’d ever seen in real life. She was more like a movie star, tall and willowy and glamorous, like Lana Turner, and she talked with a French accent. She painted her fingernails and wore makeup, even during the week! She wore clothes that no one around here wore, like scarves (not wool ones, either) and pants that weren’t overalls but were made out of some whispery fabric that shimmered when she moved.
    “Not very practical,” Hannah’d say, and I’d nod. They weren’t practical at all, and that’s what I loved about them.All my clothes were either handmade or hand-me-downs, stained and mended, and I always bit my lip when I saw Nadine and Mrs. Tilton wearing matching mother-daughter outfits.
    Nadine seemed to fit right in at our house, but I always felt embarrassed to have Mrs. Tilton over, seeing our shabby furniture, the worn linoleum on the kitchen floor, and the peeling wallpaper, and I felt uncomfortable having her eat with us. Hannah was a good cook, but she made things like tuna pea wiggle, dried beef gravy, and shepherd’s pie (I just couldn’t see Mrs. Tilton eating tuna pea wiggle, on crackers, off a chipped plate), and Hannah didn’t get all worked up if there happened to be a hair in the mashed potatoes (“Just pick it out, it won’t kill you,” Hannah’d say). Seeing Mrs. Tilton and Hannah side by side was like sitting a sleek, shiny barn swallow next to a hen. Nadine complained about her family, but I didn’t see what she had to complain about. To have a mother like that, and a dad,
and
a brother … some people are just plain lucky.
    I dug into