Ask Him Why Read Online Free Page B

would be like in the foreseeable future. It was small. It wasn’t dramatic. But if I had been looking for clues, it would have been a good one.
    I walked into the principal’s office to explain why I hadn’t given my parents the note.
    She looked up from her desk. From a sheaf of papers she was scribbling on—writing in the margins, in blue pencil. Her eyes changed when she saw me. I can’t describe exactly how.
    I held up the note.
    “I didn’t show them this,” I said.
    “Don’t worry about it,” she said.
    I thought I must have heard her wrong.
    “I’m sorry?”
    “Don’t worry about it. I heard about . . . what your family’s dealing with. It’s a hard time over at your house. So I’ll overlook the acting out. This time. And this time only.”
    With a tipping of her head she indicated the wastepaper basket beside her desk.
    I put the note in it. Gently. As though it were fragile.
    Then I walked out.
    Of course, I hadn’t known anything about Joseph coming home when I “acted out.”
    But what kind of fool would bring that up when he could just walk out of trouble? Just walk away.

Chapter Three: Ruth

    The day after Joseph came home, I walked through our gate to find a stranger sitting in the sun on our blindingly white porch swing. He was wearing khaki pants and a khaki bag—like a messenger bag—slung across his chest. He was staring at an electronic device in his hands, some kind of Blackberry, I think.
    Suddenly I wished Aubrey had gotten home first instead of me.
    I was all the way up on the porch boards before he looked up.
    He wasn’t too old. I mean, over thirty, but not old like my parents. But his hairline was already receding sharply above both temples, and you could tell he would be one of those guys with nothing but a ring of hair over his ears by and by.
    He narrowed his eyes when he looked at me. I told myself it was just the sun making him squint, but to this very day I’m not sure that’s true.
    “Hello,” I said, awkwardly, because he wasn’t saying anything, awkwardly or otherwise.
    “Are you related to Joseph Stellkellner?”
    “I’m his sister.”
    “Are either of your parents home?”
    “I doubt it.”
    “You should get him to talk to me.”
    “Why should I get him to do that?”
    “Because I’m going to run this story in the paper one way or the other. And if I have to print accusations like this and then say I contacted your brother and he had no comment, that’s not going to look so good. He needs to get ahead of a thing like this, or it can get real ugly real fast.”
    I sighed hard, brushed my bangs out of my eyes, and put on a prickly, irritated attitude, but it was all a big fake. Really I was scared.
    “I just got home from school,” I said, in an attempt to deflect him. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this stuff like I know the beginning of this . . . whatever this is. What story? What accusations?”
    He flipped his head in the direction of the house. “Your brother knows,” he said.
    That feeling of fear intensified. This time it felt like cold water running down the insides of my thighs. I think I was silent too long. I think I tipped my hand on the fear.
    “Have you got a card?” I asked him at last. “I can talk to him, but I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do. If I can get him to change his mind, or if he changes his mind on his own, he can always call you.”
    He rummaged around in his khaki bag for what seemed like a long time. I gathered that things weren’t too organized in there. In time he brought out a card case that looked like sterling silver, which did not match him and his bag and his khaki pants and his faded polo shirt at all. He opened it and handed me a card.
    I stared at it for a long time, but I’m not sure where my mind was, because thirty seconds later I couldn’t have told you the guy’s name. I could have told you the paper was the Register , but we only had the one around here. I