Trouble from the Start by Rachel Hawthorne Read Free Book Online Page A

as I recalled all the sensations I’d experienced last night.
    â€œCan I ride your motorcycle?” Tyler asked.
    â€œNot until you’re older,” Mom said quickly, as though she thought Fletcher would take Tyler for a ride after dinner. “Much older.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause that’s the way it is,” Dad said, and I fought not to roll my eyes. I hated answers that had no reasoning behind them.
    Conversation drifted to Mom’s garden, a neighbor who was sick, and the weather. What was noticeably absent was anyone asking anything about Fletcher’s dad. Had he gotten caught in layoffs, maybe left town to look for a jobelsewhere? Why was Dad helping Fletcher out?
    When everyone was finished eating, I stood to start clearing off the table. I picked up my plate, Dad’s—
    â€œFletcher, you can help Avery clean up the dishes,” Dad announced.
    â€œThat’s not necessary, Dad,” I said. “He’s a guest.”
    â€œHe’s not a guest. He’s living with us. So he has chores just like everyone else.”
    I expected Fletcher to toss down his napkin, stand up, and declare that he was out of here. Instead, he stood and followed my lead, grabbing his plate and Tyler’s. I was incredibly aware of him walking behind me as I went into the kitchen.
    â€œYou can rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher,” I told him, setting the plates on the counter by the sink. “Everything else requires some knowledge of how Mom likes things done.”
    Reaching over, I turned on the faucet and grabbed a brush from a mosaic holder I’d made for Mother’s Day when I was about six. As I grew older, I realized it was hideously ugly, but Mom still loved it. “Scrape the food into the disposal.”
    He snagged the brush from my fingers. “Think I can figure it out.”
    As I watched him scrape food from a plate, I noticed the bunching of his muscles beneath his black T-shirt. Icouldn’t blame him for being tense again. Dinner had been awkward. I didn’t know how to make it easier.
    Every now and then, as I put things away, I’d glance over at Fletcher and see him staring through the window that looked out on the backyard and I wondered if he was plotting his escape. His jeans were worn, frayed at the hems. If he had been our usual summer project, Mom would have taken him shopping for clothes. I didn’t see that happening. It was weird. I always knew what to expect of my summer. But this summer, I didn’t have a clue.
    I was wiping down the island, Fletcher the other counters, when Dad walked in. “Avery, why don’t you make some popcorn? We’re going to have a family movie night.”
    Fletcher tossed his rag toward the sink and headed for the door.
    â€œThat includes you, Fletcher,” Dad said.
    Fletcher came to an abrupt halt, his sharply defined jaw tightening. “I’ve got stuff to do.”
    â€œIt’ll wait. We don’t get a lot of time to be together during the week, so we make the time Sunday evening,” Dad explained. “You’re part of the family now.” Dad glanced over at me. “Probably ought to make two batches.”
    Turning on his heel, he strode from the room like everything was settled. He wasn’t used to not being obeyed.
    Fletcher glared at me like it was my fault that he hadto participate in family night. I shrugged. “It won’t be long. Because of Tyler, it’ll be a kiddie movie.”
    â€œA kiddie movie?” he ground out.
    Okay, so maybe that wasn’t so reassuring. “Probably something animated.”
    He shook his head. “I’m not believing this.”
    â€œBeats incarceration.”
    â€œI’m not so sure.”
    I headed for the pantry, pointing behind me as I went. “Large bowls are in that cabinet. Why don’t you grab a couple?”
    I snagged two bags of popcorn, put one in the