The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares Read Free Book Online

seen him without his.
    â€œThere!” she said suddenly, and he pounced. He pulled her suitcase off the conveyor belt as though his life had prepared him for that job alone. The turquoise sequins on her shoulder bag sparkled.
    He carried the big suitcase instead of rolling it. “Great! Let's go.” He pointed them in the direction of the parking lot.
    â€œDo you still have your Saab?” she asked. Cars were one of the interests they had in common.
    â€œNo. I traded it in this past spring for a station wagon.”
    â€œReally?” She couldn't quite make sense of that one. “Do you like it?”
    â€œIt does the job,” he said, steering them right to it. It was a beige Volvo. His Saab had been red. “And here we go.” He opened her door for her and settled her in with her bag before loading her suitcase into the back. Where did dads learn these things? Why didn't they teach them to their sons?
    â€œHow did school finish up?” he asked her as he maneuvered out of the parking lot.
    â€œReally good,” she answered. She always looked forward to giving him the rundown. “I got As in math, bio, English, French, and an A minus in world history.” Her mother thought she worried about school too much. To her dad, grades mattered.
    â€œBun, that's fabulous. And sophomore year is an important year.”
    She knew he wanted her to go to Williams, just like he had, and he knew she wanted to too, even though they didn't say it to each other out loud.
    â€œWhat about tennis?” he asked.
    Most people she knew hated these kinds of dad questions, but Carmen worked all year for them. “Bridget and I played first doubles. We only lost one match.”
    She wouldn't bother to tell him that she got an F in pottery—it wouldn't go on her transcript—or that the boy she'd crushed on all year asked Lena to the prom or that she'd made her mother cry on Easter Sunday. These conversations were about her victories.
    â€œI got a court for us on Saturday,” he told her, accelerating onto a highway.
    Carmen studied the scenery. There were motels and strip developments like there were around almost every airport, but the air smelled heavier and saltier here. She studied her dad's face. He had a tan already. It made his blue eyes stand out. She always wished she'd gotten his eyes rather than her mother's brown ones. His hair looked recently cut, and his shirt was crisp and neatly cuffed. She wondered if he'd gotten a raise or something.
    â€œI can't wait to see your place,” she said.
    â€œYeah,” he said absently, glancing into the rearview mirror before he changed lanes.
    â€œIsn't it pretty amazing that I've never been here before?” she asked.
    He concentrated on the driving. “You know, bun, it's not that I haven't wanted you to come long before this. I just wanted to get settled better before I brought you here.” There was a trace of apology in his eyes when he glanced at her.
    She didn't mean to make him uncomfortable. “Dad, I don't care if you're settled. Don't worry about that. We'll have a great time. Who cares about settled?”
    He exited the highway. “I couldn't see bringing you into my hectic life. Working so much, living alone in a one-bedroom apartment. Eating every meal out.”
    She couldn't talk fast enough. “I can't wait for that. I love eating out. I'm sick of being settled.” She meant it. This was the summer of Carmen and Al.
    He didn't say anything as they drove along small wooded suburban streets with big Victorian houses rising on either side. Raindrops burst on the windshield. The sky grew so dark it felt almost like nighttime. He slowed down and stopped in front of a cream-colored Victorian with green-gray shutters and a wraparound porch.
    â€œWhere's this?” Carmen asked.
    Her dad cut the engine and turned to her. “This is home.” His eyes were distant and a little mysterious. He