Unraveling Isobel Read Online Free Page B

from the 1950s. It’s been in his family a long time. Richard’s dad was the one who restored it.”
    â€œHuh.” Maybe Dick’s dad had restored it, but his wife and daughter had died on it. I’m all for family memories, but this felt wrong on so many levels.
    â€œIt was an accident, after all. It wasn’t like it was the boat’s fault.” Mom’s face flushed, which told me that she thought it was creepy too, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “He understands how upsetting it is, especially for Nathaniel, so he keeps it locked in the boathouse for now.”
    My mom started picking at her thumbnail the way she always does when she’s stressed. During most of my childhood,she had raw, bloody cuticles from where she would tear the skin off. She’d stopped in the past few months. For the wedding, she’d even gotten a manicure. “I’ll try harder,” I said, giving in.
    My mom gave me a huge smile. I could see her take a deep breath. She crossed the room with a quick stride and hugged me.
    â€œThat’s all I can ask, just give it a try. Richard likes you. He’s trying really hard to make you feel at home here.”
    I didn’t bother telling her that the harder Dick tried, the more it made me want to run away. My mom brushed the hair out of my eyes and slipped out of the room. I could hear the waves outside. I sat down on the bed and pulled the zebra out from underneath.
    â€œLooks like it’s just you and me, buddy.”
    When you’re seventeen and the only friend you have in town is a stuffed animal that doesn’t even belong to you, I think it’s safe to say your life is officially in the shitter.

Chapter 4
    â€œ Y ou did not move into the dead girl’s room!” Anita’s voice screeched through my cell phone. My best friend has two volume settings—mute and screaming. She’s never going to make it as a librarian, that’s for sure. She has never understood the concept of using your inside voice. Then again, “moderation” isn’t a term I would ever use when describing Anita.
    â€œIt’s the nicest bedroom in the place.” I looked around the room from my vantage point of the center of the bed. After a dinner where Dick and my mom pretended everything was fine and Nathaniel ignored me completely, I decided against an evening of board games, no matter how fun Dick tried to make it sound. Apparently his mom was some big Scrabble nut, so he wanted to carry on another fine family tradition. Most likely there was an heirloom Wickham Scrabble set with tiles somedistant relative whittled out of trees that used to grow on the estate property.
    Instead I went up to my room to get organized. I made the bed and hung my poster on the far wall. I stuck Mr. Stripes back under the bed so I wouldn’t be accused of stuffie stealing. I unpacked a bunch of postcards of paintings that I had bought from the art museum in Seattle or had picked up at the various galleries, and made them into a collage on the wall above my bed. I piled my books onto the shelves and stuck the few other things I had brought around the room so it felt more like my own space. I stared out the window. I’d never had a room with a view before, unless you count looking directly into our neighbor’s house. Mr. Turken tended to dance around in his boxers a lot. I usually kept my curtains shut. The wind was picking up now and it looked like it was going to turn into a big storm.
    â€œI can hardly hear you,” Anita yelled in my ear.
    â€œI know, the reception here sucks. I didn’t want to call you on the landline in case Dick has a rule about long-distance charges.”
    â€œDick’s a dick. Let’s talk about someone more interesting. How’s lover boy?”
    â€œHe’s my stepbrother now, remember? Most states have laws against sleeping with a sibling.”
    â€œHe’s not your real