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

didn't seem to want to take on the open surprise in hers.
    â€œThat house? Up there? I thought you lived in an apartment downtown.”
    â€œI moved. Just last month.”
    â€œYou did? Why didn't you tell me on the phone?”
    â€œBecause . . . there's a lot of big stuff, bun. Stuff I wanted to say in person,” he answered.
    She wasn't sure how she felt about big stuff. She turned in her seat. “So? Are you going to tell me?” Carmen was never graceful about surprises.
    â€œLet's go inside, okay?”
    He opened his door and hurried around to her side before she echoed his okay. He didn't get her suitcase. He held his coat over both their heads as they climbed stone steps up to the house.
    He took her arm in his. “Careful. These steps get slippery when it rains,” he said, leading her up the painted wood steps of the front porch. It was as though he'd lived here forever.
    Carmen's heart was thumping. She had no idea where they were or what to expect. She felt the shape of the apple in her bag.
    Her dad pushed open the door without knocking. “Here we are!” he called.
    Carmen realized she was holding her breath. Who would be here?
    Within seconds a woman came into the room with a girl who appeared to be about Carmen's age. Carmen stood baffled and stiff as the woman and then the girl each hugged her. They were quickly followed by a tall young man, about eighteen, Carmen guessed. He was blond and broad, like an athlete. She was thankful that he didn't hug her.
    â€œLydia, Krista, Paul, this is my daughter, Carmen,” her dad said. Her name sounded weird in his voice. He always called her sweetheart or baby or bun. He never called her Carmen. She thought that was because it was her Puerto Rican grandmother's name, and Carmen Sr. had sent him several nasty letters after the divorce. Her father's mother was dead. Her name was Mary.
    They all stared at her expectantly, smiling. She had no idea what to say or do.
    â€œCarmen, this is Lydia.” Pause, pause, pause. “My fiancée. And Krista and Paul, her children.”
    Carmen closed her eyes and opened them again. The soft lights around the room made floaty spots in her vision. “When did you get a fiancée?” she asked in a near whisper. She knew it wasn't the most polite phrasing.
    Her father laughed. “April twenty-fourth, to be exact,” he said. “I moved in mid-May.”
    â€œAnd you're getting married?” She knew that was an incredibly stupid thing to say.
    â€œIn August,” he said. “The nineteenth.”
    â€œOh,” she said.
    â€œQuite amazing, isn't it?” he asked.
    â€œAmazing,” she echoed faintly, though her tone wasn't the same as his.
    Lydia took one of her hands. Carmen felt as though it no longer belonged to her body. “Carmen, we are
so
thrilled to have you this summer. Why don't you come inside and relax? Would you like a soda or a cup of tea? Albert will show you your room so you can get settled.”
    Albert? Who ever called her father Albert? And what was all this about getting settled? What was she doing in this house? This wasn't where she was spending her summer.
    â€œCarmen?” her dad said. “Soda? Tea?”
    Carmen just turned to him, wide-eyed, not quite hearing. She nodded.
    â€œWhich? Both?” her dad pressed.
    She looked around the kitchen. Stainless steel appliances like rich people had. There was an oriental carpet on the floor. Who had an oriental carpet in their kitchen? There was an old-fashioned southern-style fan overhead. It turned slowly. She could hear the rain beating against the window.
    â€œCarmen? Carmen?” Her dad was trying to mask his impatience.
    â€œSorry,” she murmured. She realized Lydia was poised at the cupboard, waiting for orders. “Nothing for me. Could you please tell me where I should put my stuff?”
    Her dad looked pained. Did he see how distressed she was? Did he