Trouble from the Start by Rachel Hawthorne Read Free Book Online

are way more interesting than saints.”
    â€œHow would you know?” I asked with what I hoped was a seductive smile. “I doubt you’ve ever known a saint.”
    Fletcher dug into Mom’s chicken casserole like he thought the apocalypse was about to hit and we’d be without food for eons. Tyler kept peering over at him like he was worried our guest might devour him along with the casserole. Mom asked Fletcher a couple of questions about his classes, which resulted in one-word responses: Okay . Fine . Fantastic .
    I wondered if he was telling the truth, but if he was, why would he have been assigned to tutoring sessions?
    I picked up a bowl. “Green beans?”
    He studied me a moment like he was surprised to find me at the table. “No, thanks.”
    â€œDo you want some more, Tyler?” I asked.
    He shook his head. He loved green beans. Had he said no because of Fletcher? I really hoped he wasn’t going to start mimicking our guest. I wondered if Dad had given any thought to the influence Fletcher would have on an impressionable Tyler.
    â€œSo I spoke with Pete Smiley,” Dad said, his voice suddenly booming out over the table and making us all jump. And I mean all of us, including Fletcher. I didn’t figure anything would fracture his calm, uncaring facade. “He’s the owner of Smiley’s. He’s willing to give you a job, Fletcher.”
    I expected Fletcher to rebel against Dad controlling this particular aspect of his life. Instead he said, “Thanks, ’preciate it.”
    â€œMeet me there tomorrow after school. We’ll get everything firmed up.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    I reminded myself that he wasn’t a scared little boy who Dad would handle with kid gloves. He was too old to be influenced by a summer of baseball, hot dogs, and loving arms. Dad was going to be taking a tougher approach. Fletcher no doubt understood the score. If Dad wasn’thappy, Fletcher would get booted out, returned to jail, or possibly worse.
    â€œI want a job,” Tyler piped up.
    Dad grinned. He had a great grin that made his face soften, that made everything about him soften. It was not something he ever took to the office with him. Well, maybe he pulled it out when he was comforting a frightened child. I always knew when he dealt with situations that involved children, because when he came home he hugged me just a little bit harder. “In a few years.”
    â€œYeah, squirt,” I said, figuring he was just feeling overlooked by all the attention Fletcher was getting tonight. “Enjoy not working until you have to. Besides, what kind of job could you get? Professional tickler?”
    It was funny but when he smiled, I saw Dad’s grin. Tyler was adopted but he was taking on Dad’s mannerisms. I guess when you love someone sometimes you want to be just like him, and on some things environment can win out over genes.
    â€œI’m a good tickler.” Tyler looked up at Fletcher. “What are you good at?”
    Fletcher gave Tyler a small smile. “Fixing cars.”
    I realized Dad had known the answer and that was the reason he’d contacted Mr. Smiley. In spite of the fact that he was sometimes stern, my dad was relatively easy to talk to. It bothered me, though, that he could get informationout of Fletcher while I couldn’t. “Where’d you learn?” I asked.
    As though uncomfortable again, he shifted in his chair. “My dad.”
    I suddenly wondered how his dad felt about him being here, but I knew he wouldn’t answer if I asked with an audience. Probably wouldn’t answer anyway. “Yet you drive a motorcycle.”
    Fletcher went incredibly still and his eyes homed in on me. “It’s more fun.”
    I knew— knew —he was thinking about the ride he’d given me and how I’d latched my arms around him as though I’d never let go. My heart did this crazy little thud