Fault Lines by Brenda Ortega Read Free Book Online Page A

here?”
    I stuck my head out from behind her to see Mike.
    Never! Never in a million years did I expect this! But there was my big brother, sitting on one of four logs set up in a square around a large circle of rocks, a fire pit, filled with a mound of ashes and pieces of burnt wood. Even more shocking, Todd and Derek sat on the other logs. They had their elbows on their knees and stared at the fire pit.
    “Dani?” Mike said. His eyes had the mean look I was getting so tired of.
    I couldn’t speak, felt sick. Mike wore his red football practice jersey and held a beer can in his hand. Star athlete, star student. He threw a cigarette into the ashes.
    “You two need to go home,” he said. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”
    “ We’re not supposed to be out here?” I said. “And you are?”
    Todd blew smoke from his cigarette.
    “Just go home,” Mike said.
    Amazingly, Justine walked ahead like she owned the place. She stepped up on the circle of fire pit rocks and started tiptoeing around it with her arms stretched out for balance. Nobody said anything, probably because her dad just died.
    “What are you guys doing?” she said.
    Mike stared me down, his eyes ordering me, Get out of here or else .
    “Whoa,” Justine said, wobbling on a shaky rock. “I almost fell.”
    She was acting like a crazy person. I knew that. But what could I do?
    “Justine, let’s go,” I murmured.
    She ignored me, just kept playing balance beam, with nobody saying anything. Then she fell in. A huge cloud of thick dust rose up.
    I didn’t rush to help her. Everything went slow-motion and I couldn’t move. My dog trainer voice even panicked. How are you going home now? How will you explain this to Mrs. Hammond? You’re not even allowed back in Stink Bomb!
    After a second, as the ashes started falling back down on her, Justine picked herself up to her knees and finally to her feet. Her long-sleeve yellow t-shirt, her leggings, shoes, everything was covered in soot. Even her face and hair.
    She was going “Puh-thoo – Puh – Puh – Puhthoo” trying to get the mess away from her mouth and nose, and she held her arms outstretched like she was dripping wet. Finally, she started crying.
    I shut up my dog trainer voice. I didn’t look at anyone but Justine. I didn’t care what Mike or Todd or Derek thought. I put my arm around her and led her out.
    Walking home, I was scared we’d be in huge trouble, but Justine said it was no big deal. She was back to her sleepwalking.
    When we got to her house, she walked right inside through the garage and down the basement stairs. She stripped off her forbidden leggings and shirt and threw them in the washing machine with some soap. She worked the dials to turn it on. Then she opened the dryer and pulled out her special-occasion-only blue jeans and a button-up top to put on.
    Watching her zip her pants and button her shirt, my mouth hung open in amazement. For one thing, she didn’t seem worried her mom would hear us and come down to ask questions, and for another thing, she knew how to work the washing machine even though her mom did everything around the house.
    “Let’s go watch TV,” she said, and that was weird too. She barely ever was allowed to watch anything.
    “What about your mom?” I asked. She just shook her head and walked upstairs.
    Justine flicked on the TV and flipped around the channels. I sat next to her, a little freaked out seeing Mr. Hammond’s shoes and coat by the front door.
    Finally, her mom’s weak voice came from the bedroom. “Justine? Is that you?”
    “Yes, Mom.” She kept flipping channels.
    “Come here,” her mom said. “Is someone with you?”
    Justine rolled her eyes and dropped the remote. I followed her to her mom’s room.
    I couldn’t believe it when I saw Justine’s mom lying in a raggedy bed with crumpled clothes all over the floor and the shades drawn to block the sun. Her hair – normally perfectly hair-sprayed – stuck