If You Only Knew Read Online Free Page A

Arnie,” Mom said. “She said she ate. Enough. Who even cares? What time is it? I have to be at work . . .”
    “Seven forty-four. Gotta go,” yelled Bay.
    Mom headed toward the kitchen and threw her curling iron on the counter, mumbling, “Constant referee.”
    We all grabbed our lunches and kissed Dad. Well, Colette didn’t. “Love you,” Dad said to each of us, and then, “Come on, Elvis.” He doesn’t need to urge Elvis to come with him. Elvis is practically Dad’s third foot.
    “Don’t forget your lunch!” Mom yelled after us. All five of us held up our brown bags as we scuffed down the back walk. She says don’t forget your lunch instead of I love you.
    On the way to the bus stop I felt like an elephant, so I lumbered behind with Colette. “I would’ve sat there all day,” she said.
    I could just see her sitting at the dining room table with her arms crossed when we got home. I shook my head. “I’ve never eaten so much French toast so fast in my life.”
    “I would’ve,” Colette insisted.
    “I believe you.” I did, and I was too full to argue, anyway.
    “I don’t care if it’s Welsh or not. I hate him.”
    I looked at her, stomping beside me. She’s not much taller than I am and weighs ten pounds less. Since she showers at night, Colette was the only one of us with dry hair, and hers is the curliest. Like Dad’s. She and Dad are a lot alike. I would never hate my father, as annoying as he can be. He’s just Dad. I can’t really see myself hating anybody. Not even Colette.
    Her blue eyes, all outlined in black, looked so haunted and angry I almost asked her why she would do that to herself, but instead I said, “I like your eyeliner.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah,” I lied.
    She pushed her hair away from her face and asked, “Why don’t you wear any makeup?”
    I shrugged. “I think I’d feel too noticeable.”
    “Because you could be really pretty if you tried.” She tucked my hair behind my ear.
    “You think so?” I tucked back the other side.
    She squinted at me. “Long blonde hair, the bluest eyes, high cheekbones—face it, Zoe. You’re a dish.”
    “Please,” I said, thinking, Really?
    “You are,” she said. “You know, you’re my second favorite sister.”
    “I am?” That really surprised me. I thought she probably hated me, too.
    She nodded.
    I don’t think she’s my second favorite sister. She scares me. Besides, I wasn’t sure whether or not to feel jealous that I only came in second. “Who’s first?” I asked.
    “He can’t make me eat,” she answered.
    “Hey,” I said. “What did you do yesterday? Devin wouldn’t tell me. Is Devin your favorite?”
    We were almost at the bus stop. She stopped and whispered, “It’s a secret.”
    “I won’t tell,” I swore.
    She stared me in the eyes for a few seconds. I thought, Please, please . Then she lifted her T-shirt to show her belly button. It had a very small gold hoop through it.
    “Whoa,” I said. “Did that hurt?”
    “It kills. But I think it looks fierce, don’t you?”
    She didn’t wait for me to answer because her boy-friend, Matt O’Donnell, yelled her name. He has the beginnings of a mustache and a ponytail. She skipped over to him and they started kissing hello.
    Everybody watched. The high school bus pulled up before they finished. They ended the kiss and smiled at each other. A twelfth-grade boy clapped; Matt bowed. He’s sort of cute, I guess, in a grimy way. Even Colette has someone. Everybody but me trudged up the steps.
    “You coming?” the driver asked me.
    I realized I was just standing there spacing out. “No,” I said. “I . . . I’m . . .” I was thinking it might be interesting to be Colette for a day and do only what I feel like doing, not worry about anybody else or how they’re feeling. Be all jagged edges, make a point of things, run some panty hose, or whatever Anne Marie was saying. Let everybody else be careful of me, for a change. Pierce my belly