rock by Anyta Sunday Read Free Book Online

summer, I’m scowling at my plate.
    Capsicum. I hate it. Something about the tangy-burnt taste makes me want to retch. Unfortunately, the last time I didn’t eat my capsicum, Dad served it to me for breakfast and every meal thereafter until I ate it.
    I poke at my stir-fry, shoving the long strips of capsicum to the side of the plate. At times like these I wish I had a dog.
    Dad and Lila are lost in a boring discussion, and Annie has inhaled her food so she can excuse herself. I scowl at her as she leaves the table, racing toward the capsicum-free zone of her bedroom to talk on the phone all night.
    Jace has almost finished his dinner. Judging by his expression, he doesn’t hate the dinner but he doesn’t love it either. He shovels a few more vegetable bits onto his fork and glances over at me. Specifically, at the mountain of capsicum collecting on the side of my plate.
    He shakes his head and mouths “breakfast,” to which I groan and reluctantly stab one of the strips of disgustingness. Jace chuckles, glances at his mum and my dad still talking, and quickly pinches my plate from under my nose. In one swift scoop, he piles my capsicum onto his plate and slides my dinner back to me.
    He shrugs, but it feels more like a wink. My smile is forged from somewhere deep as I tackle the rest of my food—
    “Where’s Annie?” Dad asks me. I jump, afraid we’ve been caught.
    “Oh, Annie? She excused herself. You half nodded at her.”
    His mouth sets in a thin line as he takes in her empty place. Lila rests her hand next to his, their pinkies touching.
    “No matter,” she says. “We’ll tell the boys first—”
    “Annie!” Dad yells, pushing back from the chair. “Come back down here.” He moves toward the stairs.
    A few moments later Annie stomps back into the kitchen, sighing loudly. She hovers in the arched doorway, staring toward the patio instead of us. “What?”
    Lila smiles brightly. “For our second family trip, we’ve decided to trek across part of Abel Tasman National Park.”

* * *
     
    Another year rolls by. Annie and I combine our money to buy Jace a ticket to the Symphony Orchestra to see a famous pianist. A Christmas gift; the first Christmas we’ve spent at Dad’s.
    He accepts the ticket with a frown. “Thanks,” he says. It’s a soft thanks that follows me all day.
    I get every gift I hoped for, including a new phone, a To the Center of the Earth board game, and a documentary on fossils. “Let’s check it out!”
    But Dad and Lila bow out, making up a quick excuse about getting up early.
    Annie and Jace look at each other, excuses dancing unspoken between them.
    “You don’t have to,” I say, shrugging and heading up the stairs. “I’ll watch it on my own.”
    Annie races up the stairs and flings her arm around my neck. Her tightly-curled hair bumps on my chin. “Okay. I’ll watch it.”
    I roll my eyes. She’s playing nice, and I don’t want that. “Nah, I’m good. Actually, now I think about it, I’m kinda tired. I’m going to bed.”
    “You sure?”
    I drop her off at her room. “Of course. We can watch it this weekend.” By then she’ll forget about it anyway.
    “Okay,” she says and ruffles my hair. “Promise.”
    Her door shuts with a puff of wind, and I slink toward my room.
    At my bedroom door, my foot brushes against something hard. Six stones are placed in the doorway at equal distances. I slip the documentary DVD under my arm to crouch down and pick up the stones. Limestone. Quartz. Granite. Amethyst. Aquamarine. And—I laugh out loud as Jace’s padded steps clunk down the hall—a moonstone.
    “Did you put these here?”
    Jace stops a few feet away and leans against the wall. “Nope.” Out of the corner of my eye, though, I detect a grin.
    “They’re beautiful.”
    He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Are they?”
    “I love how they’re squared. But if you didn’t put them here, who did?”
    “Someone who wanted to wish you a Merry