Read Online This Is Me From Now On by Barbara Dee - Free Book Online Page A

think she’s desperately lonely, but she throws herself into her work. And then late at night when she simply can’t bear to confront her romantic yearnings, she eats a pint of—what is this? Dark Chocolate Snickers Truffle.”
    â€œAre you psychotic? Where did you get that from?”
    â€œI’m psychic. Not
psychotic
, Evie. Slight difference.” She stuck her spoon in the Triple Fudge Marshmallow Chunk. “Don’t you wonder about her? I do. Because she’s obviously a deep person. So I can’t imagine all she cares about is teaching boring U.S. History to boring seventh graders. Especially in Blanton.”
    â€œHey, Blanton’s not so bad,” I protested.
    She ignored that. “You’ve seen those posters on her walls. She’s traveled all over the world. So why is she wasting her life
here
? Unless,” she added dramatically, “she has some dark, romantic secret.”
    â€œLike what?”
    She leaned forward, breathing chocolate in my face. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell anyone else.”
    I nodded.
    â€œI’m convinced,” she practically whispered, “that she’s passionately in love with Mr. Rafferty.”
    â€œWHAT?”
    â€œYesterday I saw them chatting in the main office. And I saw them right before dismissal today, in the hall outside her classroom. She was gazing into his eyes as if her soul was on fire. Or don’t you believe me?”
    â€œI believe you,” I said, laughing. “I just think you’re crazy.”
    â€œWhy?” She raised one eyebrow. “Just because she’s cool and deep and intellectual, you think she’s incapable of crushing on the one truly gorgeous male in the entire school?”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant! And frankly, I don’t even want to be thinking about this!”
    She pointed her spoon at me. “Okay. I’ve figured out your problem, Evie. You’re terrified of your own romantic imagination.” Then she tossed the spoon into the sink. “And that’s why you’re so paralyzed about Zane.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œI’ll shut up now. See? Lipstotallysealed. Can’teventalk. Omigod.” She jumped up. “I forgot about the vitamins.”
    She ran out of the kitchen without even putting the icecream back in the freezer. I had no idea what was going on, but I guessed that, since she got rid of her spoon, she was done eating. So I put the lids back on the pints and lined them up on the middle freezer shelf. Then I walked out into the living room.
    Which was empty.

chapter 7
    Uh, Francesca?” I called. “Hello?”
    No answer. From somewhere I could hear the air conditioner rumble on, like a huge lion snoring. It made the house seem bigger. And emptier.
    â€œFRANCESCA?” I called again.
    â€œShhhh,” she answered from over my head.
    I looked up. She was standing on the second-floor landing holding a tiny bottle of something. “Come upstairs,” she whispered.
“Qui-et-ly.”
    I kicked off my sandals and climbed the stairs. Just as I got to the top, she suddenly lunged. “GOT YOU,” she shouted, grabbing a white puffy bedroom slipper.
    Only it wasn’t—it was a rabbit. The other one. Tourmaline.
    She squirted something from a little dropper into the rabbit’s mouth. Then she opened her arms and it hopped frantically down the hallway.
    â€œOne down,” she said, grinning at me. “Now for Topaz. Oh, Tooo-paaaz,” she sang in an Elmer Fudd sort of voice. “Come and get your din-din.”
    Laughing our heads off, we tiptoed from room to room, searching for the dustball-colored, rug-chewing little beast. I realized that while I was wabbit-hunting, I was also getting an up-close tour of Samantha Pattison’s house, and it shocked me how normal it was: just a bunch of sand-colored guest bedrooms no one seemed to be actually using.