The Book of Luke by Jenny O'Connell Read Free Book Online Page A

felt different from the rest of us, like when we took our freshman class trip to Block Island. The whole time we were there, everyone was buying souvenir T-shirts and baseball hats and little shot glasses with whales etched into the sides. But when we were all on the bus heading back to Branford, I noticed that Josie was the only one who didn’t have a plastic shopping bag stuffed with mementos of our trip. She only held a small keychain with a gray plastic whale dangling off it.
    “She doesn’t seem that different, though,” I told Lucy, wondering if Josie still had the keychain.
    “Oh, she’s not, really. I mean, in the beginning when they started building the new ‘estate,’ as Josie’s mother calls it, she was into it. But then she realized that her parents were way into it—or at least her mother was.”
    It was hard to picture Mrs. Holden, the woman who lived in a velour sweatsuit every day of the week, insisting on calling her house an estate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mrs. Holden in anything but a running suit, although I’d never seen her actually run anywhere.
    “Does her mom still wear those velour running outfits?”
    “Oh yeah, only now they’re Juicy Couture and she wears them to do yoga in her meditation room.”
    “A meditation room?”
    “I told you. Wait until you see this place. You’re not going to believe it.” Lucy waited for me to grab my backpack out of Josie’s locker. “Come on, Josie said to meet her at the car.”
    “I still can’t believe she has her own car.”
    “Not just a car,” Lucy assured me. “A shiny new BMW.”

Chapter Four
    The Guy’s Guide Tip #9A:
    If you choose to ignore Tip #9, do not suggest an impromptu wet T-shirt contest—you’re not funny and our life’s aspiration does not include a starring role in a Girls Gone Wild video.
    “A re you ready for this?” Lucy asked over her shoulder as we slowed down and prepared to turn into Josie’s driveway. At least, I thought it was a driveway, although it didn’t look like any driveway I’d ever seen before. It looked more like some sort of cobblestone road.
    “Wait until you see the stables,” Josie told me. “My mom thinks I’m supposed to become some sort of equestrian just because she always loved reading The Black Stallion . I am now the proud owner of a pair of britches and a velvet riding helmet, if you can believe it.”
    “They have two horses, Ginger and Pinecone.” Lucy lowered her voice. “Josie hates them.”
    “Only because they hate me.”
    “They don’t hate you,” Lucy insisted. “They just need to get used to you.”
    “Well, they had no problem getting used to Lucy. She was practically National Velvet out there, jumping over fences.”
    “Don’t listen to her. I wasn’t jumping over any fences.”
    The thing is, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she was. Lucy was the kid who could ride a two-wheeler while the rest of us were still just thrilled to have pink streamers on our handlebars.
    “Prepare yourself, we’re here.” Lucy tapped on the glass with her index finger, and instead of the silence I expected, there was a clicking noise as she rapped the passenger-side window. Lucy actually had fingernails! She’s always been a nail biter, despite her mom’s best efforts, including special gloves Lucy had to wear to bed at night, and even some toxic polish that was supposed make Lucy gag if she even put her fingers near her mouth. I never expected Lucy to ever stop biting her nails, but there they were. It wasn’t like she had long red nails with rhinestones glued on the tips or anything, but, still, they weren’t the nibbled-on fragments I was used to.
    “Don’t hold it against me,” Josie said before flipping on her blinker. “I had nothing to do with this.”
    I didn’t know what she was talking about until we pulled into the driveway and were face-to-face with two stone pillars flanking a wrought-iron gate with a huge script H in the center.
    “The