Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Read Online Free

the Pants.
2. You must never double-cuff the Pants. It’s tacky. There will never be a time when this will not be tacky.
3. You must never say the word “phat” while wearing the Pants. You must also never think to yourself, “I am fat” while wearing the Pants.
4. You must never let a boy take off the Pants (although you may take them off yourself in his presence).
5. You must not pick your nose while wearing the Pants. You may, however, scratch casually at your nostril while really kind of picking.
6. Upon our reunion, you must follow the proper procedures for documenting your time in the Pants:
• On the left leg of the Pants, write the most exciting place you have been while wearing the Pants.
• On the right leg of the Pants, write the most important thing that has happened to you while wearing the Pants. (For example, “I hooked up with my second cousin, Ivan, while wearing the Traveling Pants.”)
7. You must write to your Sisters throughout the summer, no matter how much fun you are having without them.
8. You must pass the Pants along to your Sisters according to the specifications set down by the Sisterhood. Failure to comply will result in a severe spanking upon our reunion.
9. You must not wear the Pants with a tucked-in shirt and belt. See rule #2.
10. Remember: Pants = love. Love your pals.
Love yourself.

O ne day, around the time Tibby was twelve, she realized she could judge her happiness by her guinea pig, Mimi. When she was feeling busy, full of plans and purpose, she raced out of her room, past Mimi’s glass box, feeling faintly sad that Mimi just had to lie there lumpen in her wood shavings while Tibby’s life was so big.
    She could tell she was miserable when she stared at Mimi with envy, wishing it was her who got to drink fat water droplets from a dispenser positioned at exactly the height of her mouth. Wishing it was her who could snuggle into the warm shavings and decide only whether to spin a few rotations on her exercise wheel or just take another nap. No decisions, no disappointments.
    Tibby got Mimi when she was seven. At the time she thought Mimi was the most beautiful name in the world. She had saved it up for almost a year, waiting. It was very easy to spend your best name on a stuffed animal or on an imaginary friend. But Tibby held out. Those were the days when Tibby trusted what she liked. Later, if she loved the name Mimi, she would have thought that was a good reason to name her Frederick.
    Today, with her green Wallman’s smock crushed under her arm, with no one to complain to, with no good things to look forward to, Tibby was purely jealous.
    Nobody ever sent a guinea pig off to work, did they? She imagined Mimi in a matching smock. Mimi was hopelessly unproductive.
    A howl rose from the kitchen, reminding Tibby of two other unproductive creatures in the house—her two-year-old brother and one-year-old sister. They were all noise and destruction and evil-smelling diapers. Even Wallman’s drugstore seemed like a sanctuary compared to her house at lunchtime.
    She packed her digital movie camera in its bag and put it on a high shelf in case Nicky found his way into her room again. She stuck one piece of masking tape over the Power button of her computer and another longer piece over the CD drive. Nicky loved turning her computer off and jamming discs into the slot.
    “I’m going to work,” she called to Loretta, the baby-sitter, heading down the stairs and straight out the front door. She never liked to phrase her plans as questions, because she didn’t want Loretta to think she had jurisdiction over Tibby.
    Many going-to-be juniors had their licenses. Tibby had her bike. She rode the first block trying to pin her smock and wallet under her arm, but she had trouble maneuvering. She stopped. The one reasonable solution was to wear the smock and put the wallet in the pocket of her smock. She stuffed them back under her arm and kept riding.
    At Brissard Lane her wallet came