If You Only Knew Read Online Free

always to some place with brick ovens or yeast.
    I was on my second piece and Bay had just finished her first when Colette drifted down. She filled a glass with water and sat in her seat next to me. Dad plopped a big piece of French toast onto her plate.
    “No, thank you,” Colette said.
    Dad’s smile stiffened a little. “I made it special, on my best barley bread. Good start to your first day.”
    “I’m on a diet,” Colette said, sipping her water. I bent my head down and ate a huge hunk of French toast and thought, No, no, no .
    “You are not going to school until that French toast is eaten,” Dad enunciated. His fists were on the table, with the spatula gripped tight in one of them. I didn’t dare look up at his face.
    Next to me, Colette leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her tight T-shirt. Her words, like Dad’s, get superarticulated when they’re starting one of their fights. “Fine,” she said, chiseling each sound, “then I won’t go to school.”
    “Morning!” Devin ran into the dining room upside down, flipping her head to gather her wet hair into a ponytail. “Mmm, yum.” She flipped up, kissed Dad on the cheek, grabbed a plate, and forked a slice of French toast. “What time is it, A.M.?”
    The rest of us were staring at our plates, not moving, but Devin either didn’t notice or pretended not to. Anne Marie looked down at her watch and mumbled, “Eight minutes.”
    “I WANT YOU TO HAVE A GOOD START TO YOUR DAY!” Dad screamed. “I mean it!” He slammed the spatula down on the table and stormed off toward the stairs, with Elvis, a blur of black Lab, right behind him. Dad tells on Colette to Mom, who thinks he should relax. We listened to him stomping up toward their bedroom.
    “Well,” said Devin. “And what a Good Start it is.”
    I tried not to smile because you just never know how Colette will react, but across the table, Bay cracked up. Anne Marie and Devin both started giggling, and when I dared look at Colette, there was a smile fighting its way onto her face, too.
    “I’m not eating it,” she said, struggling to stay serious.
    “He didn’t say you had to eat it,” Anne Marie murmured.
    “Yes, he did,” said Bay.
    “No.” Anne Marie finished chewing and wiped her face on her napkin. “He said you’re not going to school until that French toast is eaten.”
    “That’s what he said,” I agreed.
    Bay stuck her fork into Colette’s French toast and brought it over to her plate. She cut it, tossed half onto my newly emptied plate, and said, “Hurry.”
    “But I . . .”
    Before I could finish saying I was totally stuffed on two huge pieces, Bay said, “Shut up and eat.”
    “Well, I’m not lying,” said Colette.
    “Why do you have to make such a point of it?” Devin asked. “Say what you need to, and get on with your life.”
    Colette looked at Anne Marie. We waited.
    “Just avoid the question,” Anne Marie said as she cleared her stuff into the kitchen. That seemed to settle it, pretty much. Anne Marie is like the junior mom of our house so she makes the rules; only Dad ever appeals her decisions to the real Mom.
    I was shoving the last hunk of French toast into my mouth when Dad came storming down the stairs followed by Elvis and then Mom, who was holding an unplugged curling iron in her hair.
    “Delicious!” Devin yelled, grabbing up her own plate and Colette’s. “We made her eat it,” she whispered to Mom.
    “You ate?” Mom asked Colette. She released the curling iron and fluffed her hair a little.
    Colette opened her mouth but Bay was faster. “Delicious, right, Colette?”
    Mom and Dad looked at Colette. Anne Marie and Devin peered in from the kitchen. Bay and I held our breath. “I guess,” Colette said. I finished chewing her last bite.
    “Was it so bad?” Dad asked. He turned to Mom. “It took me five hours last night to make that barley bread. I made the Welsh barley bread, and . . .”
    “Leave her alone,