Gabby Duran and the Unsittables by Elise Allen Read Free Book Online Page B

that’s a giant math problem?”
    “It’s a twenty-five thousand piece artistic exploration of pi, taken to two thousand digits,” Carmen shot back.
    “If the pie was taken to two thousand
flavors
, that would be normal,” Gabby said.
    “But it wouldn’t make sense,” Carmen said, scrunching her face. “Pi’s a number. It doesn’t come in flavors.”
    “Pie-with-an-e does,” Alice said, “and I happen to have a lemon meringue in the fridge. Gabby, why don’t you slice some for us?”
    That was Alice’s favorite way of handling it when the girls bickered: separation, ideally combined with sweets. Gabby tromped back upstairs and sliced three wedges of the pie. She made
Carmen’s extra-large as an apology. She hadn’t really meant to pick on her sister; she just panicked when Car caught her acting strange. If Gabby was going to be a top-secret associate
for a covert governmental agency, she had to get better at this lying thing. Snapping at Carmen all the time wouldn’t work, and if she kept sweating this much every time she stretched the
truth, she’d end her first week as a pile of salt and curls.
    “You only have two pieces,” Alice said when Gabby went downstairs and handed her and Carmen each a plate. “Aren’t you having any?”
    “Mine’s in the kitchen. I thought I’d bring it upstairs and have it while I practice.” Translation:
I can’t be around you without letting you know I’m
keeping a secret.
    “Play loud,” Carmen said. “I like hearing you.”
    Carmen wasn’t even looking at Gabby—her full attention was on the puzzle—but Gabby felt like her sister had just given her a huge hug. “Thanks, Car.” She kissed her
sister on top of her head, and even though Carmen wiped the kiss off like it was bird poop, Gabby swore she saw a hint of a smile.
    “My turn,” Alice said, holding out her arms.
    When Gabby came closer for a hug, Alice held her at arm’s length. “You look so much like your father sometimes, it’s crazy.”
    “You think?”
    Gabby was only two when her dad died, and he’d been deployed six months before that. She didn’t really remember him, and she couldn’t see the resemblance in pictures, but Alice
swore they had the exact same bright blue eyes and freckles; and pre-army, when her dad’s hair had been long, Alice said it had been just as curly as Gabby’s.
    Alice ruffled Gabby’s curls, then pulled her in for a hug. Gabby could smell the tandoori spices still lingering on her mom’s clothes. “Don’t stay up too late practicing,
baby,” Alice said. “It’s a school night. Carmen and I are going to bed soon, too.”
    Gabby promised, then bounced up to the kitchen, grabbed her slice of pie, and carried it to her room. After scarfing two huge bites, she opened her French horn case and tried to practice Friday
afternoon’s solo. She made it through once, playing extra loud for Carmen’s benefit, but she wasn’t feeling the notes. All she could think about were aliens.
    They were real. They lived all around us. She had just personally met four of them. Maybe five; the jury was still out on Edwina. They were everywhere, hidden in plain sight. People Gabby knew
could be aliens. People like Ronnie, the bus driver who always shouted, even when she was right in front of you. Or the woman at Alice’s favorite bakery who hated kids but loved dogs. Maybe
she came from a planet where everyone was fluffy with a tail, so the dogs made her feel at home.
    Or maybe
Madison
was an alien. Maybe that’s how she could see Gabby in the darkness earlier. Maybe she had creepy mind-tweaking powers, which forced Maestro Jenkins to love her
music but messed with her own brain and made it impossible for her to be nice to Gabby, no matter how nice Gabby was to her.
    Gabby put away her horn, yanked her phone out of her purple knapsack, and leaped over a pile of dirty laundry to flop on the bed and call Zee. Zee would love this. If Gabby told her there were