Read Out of Left Field for Free Online

doctored it up. Melted cheese drips from this morning’s bagels, and slices of lemon float in a pitcher of ice water. I could almost bawl—but I don’t, because Marty’s got his hat off. “Jesus, Mart—what did you do?”
    “Shaved it. Leave Jesus out of it, okay?”
    Our old routine feels oddly comforting: me, son of a lapsed Catholic (Dad) and a sometime Unitarian (Mom) meets an observant Jew (Marty).
    “But why—”
    “Dad laid down the law: no ponytail at college interviews. I decided to save him some money, shaved it off myself.”
    My jaw is still down around my waist. I think of my dad’s photo, after he cut his own hair. “Man, you look—”
    “Naked. It’s all the rage. And who knew my ears were so prominent?” Marty rubs his head with both hands, as if he’s washing it.
    “It’s not the rage at the ball park.” Dad loved the Sox this year, with their long hair and beards, their whole “idiot” routine—especially Arroyo, with his blond dreads.
    Janine grabs me from behind. “You guys sound like girls! Do I get my hug now?” She holds me tight for a second.
    Marty opens his arms to her. “My turn?”
    “You wish.” Janine points to the kitchen. “Soup’s getting cold.”
    I watch them bring the food to the table. Janine’s got more hair than any of the Sox, even Damon. Her braid nearly reaches her waist and red curls escape around her face. She’s studying filmmaking, but my guess is she’ll star in movies someday—especially with Aunt Cora’s drama connections. She’s too gorgeous to be on the wrong side of the camera lens—but I shouldn’t think that way about my own cousin. Leave that to Marty.
    We sit. I bite into the bagel, sip the soup—“Where’d you find cilantro?”—then notice they’re both waiting. I set the spoon down. “I forget something? Grace?”
    Marty frowns. Janine clears her throat. “Mom was upset last night. Said you had something to tell me.”
    “Your words to me exactly.” Marty taps his fingers on the table. “It better be good. I cut out of class early.”
    Like Marty needs extra math credits. I take a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes.”
    Three Strikes and You’re Out
    I give it to them straight, without much detail. Janine’s eyes are glassy and Marty picks at a stray thread on the place mat. It’s quiet for a long time. A siren wails outside. The cat stares out the window from her perch near the plants. The end of her tail twitches.
    “A real conversation stopper,” I say.
    “No kidding,” Marty says. “Lots of people have half brothers and sisters, but not secret ones. I can’t believe he never told you.”
    “It’s pretty intense. Two shocks in a month.” My knee slips into bounce mode again. “Mom went to the lawyer’s today. Let’s hope she doesn’t come home with another surprise.” Janine and Marty exchange a glance. “You guys thinking the way I am? Bad luck comes in threes? As in: Three strikes and you’re out?”
    “Maybe it’s not a disaster.” Marty fakes a smile. “You could end up with an annoying sibling, like the rest of us.”
    Marty says that, but we both know he’d lay down his life for his little sister Rose. And of course Janine and Andrea are tight—they’re twins.
    “I did the math,” I tell them. “He could be late twenties. I might have nieces or nephews.”
    “Uncle Brandon,” Marty says. He’s trying to cheer me up, but it doesn’t work.
    Janine hasn’t said a word though she’s the chatty twin. She looks wilted, like someone just punctured her lungs. I nudge her. “Go on.”
    She bites her lip. “Bran, that’s awful. You found out from a court notice ? How could he do that to you and your mom?”
    “He didn’t exactly plan to die.”
    She winces. “Sorry. That came out wrong. I guess I’m thinking—it doesn’t sound like something Uncle Pat would do. I loved your dad.”
    “We all did. Who knew he had skeletons in his closet? Now I’m digging in that closet for clues.