The Rule of Won by Stefan Petrucha Read Free Book Online Page A

short thin figure stood in the bedroom doorway. It was my mother. She’s a pretty woman—dark brown hair, dark eyes, a little heavy, but healthy looking. Her retail business suit was so familiar it looked like a second skin.
    I’d thought I was alone, but I guess she was napping before her evening shift.
    â€œWhat, Ma? What?” I shouted as I threw myself into a seated position and made ready to grab her and run out of the apartment. I thought the building was on fire, or she was being attacked by a robber.
    She grinned. “You’re reading! Guess my hard work really is for something.”
    I exhaled. “Not if you scare me like that again. Trying to kill me?”
    â€œSorry, sweetie,” she said, and then she came over and mussed my hair. As she did, she looked down at the title and made a face.
    â€œSomething wrong?” I asked.
    She quickly shook her head. “No. It’s just that everyone at work is reading that thing, and I never thought of you as faddish. At least it’s got words in it.”
    â€œWhat do you think of it?”
    Late for work, she was already edging toward the door. “Can’t say. I haven’t read it, but it reminds me of something I read when I was your age,
Out on a Limb,
by Shirley MacLaine. All about reincarnation and mysticism.”
    â€œMom,” I said, a little annoyed. “I think this is a little more scientific.”
    â€œI’m sure it is,” she said, but in a way that made me think she was sure it wasn’t. I winced inwardly, worried she’d heard my earlier electric-guitar chanting. She smiled and opened the door. “Gotta go, sweetie.”
    Alone again, I settled back onto the couch and returned to the book. Like I said, it was an easy read, and I cruised through the rest faster than a graphic novel.
    I was just about finished, still lying on the sofa, trying to shift so the loose spring wouldn’t poke my spine, when the door rattled, and my peace was again disturbed. This time by Grandpa Joey.
    He’s a gnarled old guy, but gnarled in a way that makes everything about him seem strong, the way a knot in a piece of wood is tougher, denser than the rest. He insists I call him Joey. It’s not his name, just the name on the sign of the repair place he bought forty years ago, Joey’s Auto Repairs. Since all his customers call him Joey, he tells me he’s getting too old to answer to too many names. Mom still calls him Dad.
    â€œWhat the hell’s going on?” he said, slamming his tool case down with a thud. He always dropped it in the same spot. The wood in the floor there was scratched and worn. “The TV isn’t on. You sick?”
    â€œNo, I’m reading. You’re just like Mom. What is it with you guys? I read sometimes.”
    â€œRight. And sometimes I like to put on ballet tights and do a few pliés.”
    I held the book up, to prove what I said was true. He squinted at it.
    â€œWhat’s it about?”
    â€œPositive thinking.”
    He laughed. “I’m positive you’re wasting your time. Thatpositive enough for you? Why don’t you read a Chilton’s or something useful?”
    â€œThis could be useful,” I said. I pretended to go back to reading, even though I was up to the index.
    He shook his head and kept walking. A few paces toward the kitchen, he stopped short, then turned around to look at me again.
    â€œIt’s for some girl, right?”
    Joey’s still got a lot on the ball.
    â€œAny use lying?” I asked.
    â€œNah.”
    â€œThen yeah. Pretty much.”
    Chuckling, he came back and patted me on the shoulder, as if he were proud of me and sorry for me at the same time.
    That’s Joey. I’d like to say he was my father figure if he weren’t so much like a freaking lawn gnome with attitude. But I love him nearly the same as I love Mom.
    Actually reading the book didn’t change my opinion.