Pictures of You by Juliette Caron Read Free Book Online Page A

Abby’s cat.)
                  I stopped cold. Would Hannah take Tiger? Definitely not. I would not allow that. As far as I was concerned Tiger was as much mine as she was Abby’s. I’d helped raise the silly cat since he was a clingy kitten, pawing my every body part, looking in all the wrong places for milk. We found him abandoned in a grocery cart at a Trader Joe’s parking lot three days into senior year. It was love at first sight. We knew we had to take him home.
                  Another thought crossed my mind. Was I stealing? Technically this stuff belonged to Abby’s family now. Was I breaking some moral code? Robbing my dead best friend? Besides taking a gummy worm out of the bulk bin when I was six, I’d never stolen anything before. But she was my best friend . We were practically family. More than family. I deserved a few things for myself. I considered asking Hannah if she’d mind if I took a few things, but what if she insisted on keeping the scrapbooks for herself? I couldn’t bear the thought of losing them. I treasured them more than any of my own belongings. More than my beloved camera.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    6
     
     
                  I didn’t get out of bed in the morning—Abby’s bed—until eleven. I’d stayed up late watching a Cosby Show marathon, wiping out an entire frozen pizza and the remaining five Twinkies. I sat up, gasping in pain. My head felt like it was being twisted by two ugly sumo wrestlers.
                  Maybe I should kick the Twinkie habit now while I still have a chance.
                  I noticed my diary, which I’d absentmindedly placed on the nightstand. It looked so lonely there. Out of guilt, I picked it up and wrote:
     
    Abby,
                  I miss you so much. You’ll never know how much I miss you. Why did you have to leave me????
    PS I’ve taken over your bedroom. Hope you don’t mind.
     
                  I plucked up my bathrobe and headed for the bathroom to take a shower. I stood for a bit, opting to simply gawk at the shower instead. If I stared long enough, would it magically make my matted hair, my offensive garlic breath and oily skin just somehow disappear? Where was Mary Poppins when I needed her?
                  Instead of showering, I melted into the couch and watched Dr. Brown’s lover wake up from a year-long coma on TV. Little did she know her ruggedly handsome boyfriend with the perfect length of stubble on his chin had an evil twin brother, also romancing her. Tiger curled up next to me, purring with contentment—as if his owner didn’t die three weeks ago. I shoved fistfuls of Cheerios into my mouth (I was out of milk) and washed it down with ginger ale. Abby loved ginger ale. Our fridge was still stocked with about a month’s supply.
                  At three Hannah came over. She was armed with eight boxes and packing tape.
                  “Oh, Tember,” she said through wet eyes, giving me a massive hug, the stud in her nose catching my hair. She looked around the front room. “Looks like you’re all settled in. I just love what you two have done with the place.”
                  The entire apartment was slapped together with various creative finds. The purple couch had been snagged at a wealthy man’s estate sale for only $80. The coffee table was simply an old door placed on two cinder blocks. A wicker chair in the corner was found dumpster-diving. Our impressive vinyl and CD collection was neatly placed in stacked antique milk crates. The leaning tower of vintage board games was another yard sale find. My photos decorated the walls. Nag Champa incense burned eternally on the side table next to a monkey lamp.
                  “Thanks. Um, Hannah, there’s something I should warn you about.” The headboard. I turned into a crazed lunatic and pulverized