Beautiful by Amy Reed Read Free Book Online Page A

the woman says, looking into my eyes so hard I have to look away. I cannot believe this is Alex’s mother. I cannot believe this is anyone’s mother.
    â€œKind of,” I say. “Not really.”
    â€œI thought she was going to be smart. But she turned out just like her brother.” She picks up a glass from the coffee table and swirls the ice around, just like my mom does.
    â€œDid she tell you about her trip to the loony bin?” the woman says.
    â€œVery funny,” says Alex, who does not look amused. She is still standing by the stairs.
    â€œHer crazy brother took her along with him to skin some cats.”
    â€œShut the fuck up,” Alex says.
    â€œYou shut up, you little brat,” she says, then yawns and closes her eyes as she stretches her long body, arching her back and lengthening her neck like she wants to be scratched. “I’m telling a story,” she says, and takes a sip of her drink. She lights a cigarette with her eyes closed and I sink deeper into the couch.
    â€œWe took them both to get fixed,” she continues, opening her eyes halfway, her fuzzy glance settling somewhere in the direction of Alex. “What’d they call your brother?”
    â€œI don’t know, Lenora. What’d they call him?”
    â€œA sociopath. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?” She takes a drag from her cigarette and leaves a perfect red halo around the filter. “And this one”—she motions to Alex, blowing smoke in her direction—“they said it was too early to tell.”
    The room is silent and Alex is smiling and wide-eyed like she’s crazy. I don’t want to believe the story, but I do. Lenora is staring at me like she can see right through me, like she knows everything about me, and I want to disappear.
    She laughs a raspy laugh. “I bet your family’s nice and normal, huh, pretty girl?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    She leans back on the couch and ashes her cigarette on the floor.
    â€œParents still married.”
    â€œYes.”
    She takes another drag and blows it out slowly. I look at Alex leaning against the banister, trying to tell her with my eyes that I want to go, but she doesn’t look at me. She keeps staring at her mother, like I’m not even there.
    â€œHow nice,” Lenora says, and then turns so she is facing me. Her leg touches mine and I feel lightning surge through me, something warm inside, outside, spreading, everywhere. She looks into my eyes and I feel my face turn hot and everything solid inside me turn to thick liquid.
    â€œI should have had a girl like you,” she says. She raises her hand and slides her palm down my cheek. I close my eyes and feel the warmth expanding. “Sensitive.”
    â€œLet’s go,” says Alex, almost shouting, and I open my eyes. She is not smiling. She is walking over. She is behind me, tugging on my shoulder. “Let’s
go.
”
    I get up. I follow her to the stairs. My feet move my body, but part of me is still on the couch, still warm and melting.I look back and Lenora’s lying down with her eyes closed, the cigarette dangling from her red lips, like I was never even there. The air is hazy with smoke and dust and setting sun through dirty windows, and I have a sudden urge to curl up beside her, to press against her, to absorb her. I want to wear her black clothes and lipstick. I want to scare girls like me.
    But I let Alex pull me downstairs to the cold, unfinished basement. The walls are concrete and lined with piles of boxes, rusted bikes, and other broken things. Alex opens a door to a small, carpeted room with a stained mattress on the floor and graffiti the color of blood on the wall. “This was my brother’s room,” she says, matter-of-factly. She points to a broken light fixture on the ceiling. “And that’s where—drumroll, please—my dad hung himself.”
    I look at her in