Thirty Sunsets Read Online Free

busy boring holes into each other’s eyes to appreciate her humor. “Fun summer. Good times.”
    “Your mother invited me,” Olivia says, like this is somehow supposed to strike me as persuasive or relevant in any way whatsoever.
    “Did she.”
    Olivia holds the frosty gaze for a second longer, then sighs. “I really hope we can have a good time.”
    I try to utter an appropriate response, but the only thought coursing through my brain is the one that has occupied 90 percent of my gray cells since puberty: I am going to kill my mother .

five
    “I could have sworn I mentioned it.”
    Mom doesn’t bother to look up from packing as she utters these insanity-inducing words.
    I dig my nails into my palms. “No, you didn’t mention it.”
    “Do you want me to pack your beach towels?” she asks.
    I move from the doorway into the bedroom and pound my fist against her floral bedspread, making the suitcase jump.
    “Oh, quit being so dramatic,” Mom mutters, adding some neatly folded beach towels onto the top of the pile.
    Dad walks in the room and ruffles my hair. “’Sup, Redwood.”
    “Did you know Olivia is coming with us to Spackle Beach?” I ask him.
    “Nope.”
    There’s no satisfaction in his answer whatsoever, because he doesn’t care. Mom could invite the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and he would blissfully roll with the punches.
    “Well, neither did I .”
    “There’s enough ocean for both of you,” Mom says breezily, which is even more condescending than it sounds simply because she knows condescension drives me over the edge.
    “Hey, Mom, are you packing beach towels for Olivia and me?”
    We look toward the door and see Brian walking in, his loose curls spilling out from underneath his baseball cap.
    “Yup,” Mom answers him. “Beach towels for everybody.”
    I exchange furtive glances with my parents.
    “What?” Brian asks me, narrowing his eyes.
    “Nothing.” I offer a peace sign and walk out of the room.
    I go into my room, close the door behind me, and plop facedown onto my bed. I’ve learned my lesson: no Olivia-bashing around Brian. But does being civil require inviting her to the beach? For a month, no less? What was Mom thinking ?
    I squeeze the plump, cool comforter between my fingers, then feel my lashes flutter. It’s only mid-afternoon, but I was up late last night washing dishes long after the last guest had left Brian’s graduation party, then Shelley and I got an early start at the mall this morning, then I found out my summer’s ruined (how exhausting is that ), and I’m really, really sleepy, and …
    “ … and don’t forget my rash cream.”
    “I won’t forget,” I tell Brian before running to the store, which is what my kitchen transforms into in my dream.
    Brian started breaking out in weird rashes a few months earlier, and three trips to the dermatologist haven’t helped. I tell Brian I’ve just seen a great new product advertised on an infomercial, which I’ll be glad to trot down to the store to get him if he’d like.
    So I go to the store/kitchen and rummage through cabinets until I find the cream, which has a picture of a smiley face on it, then beam that I’ve finally solved my brother’s problem. But the grocery guy tells me, “Whoa, hold everything, not just anybody can purchase this new miracle cream,” but I explain that my brother isn’t just anybody, he’s the best brother and most amazing guy you’ll ever meet, and nothing else is helping his rashes, so he really, really needs this miracle cream, and …
    “Okay, okay,” Grocery Guy finally says, but he tells me in a somber tone to be careful; a little goes a long way. So I buy it, then skip from the store/kitchen to Brian’s bedroom and announce I’ve solved his problem. He looks skeptical, but I’m so thrilled that I open the jar myself and start slathering it on his face.
    Uh-oh … I thought I was helping, but damn if that “little goes a long way” admonition wasn’t an