Read Set This House in Order for Free Online

teenager.”
    The evening ended pretty soon after that. I kept apologizing, even as Julie insisted that she hadn’t been offended. “I’m just a little stunned, is all.” But she seemed more than stunned; she seemed wary and withdrawn. She didn’t ask me any more questions, and the conversation fumbled to a standstill.
    I started to feel strange, light-headed and nauseous. Adam had taken as much of the drunk with him as he could, to savor it in private, but there’s enough alcohol in a half gallon of stout to make two souls woozy. Julie saw my eyes glazing over and said: “I think it’s time for you to go home.”
    â€œNo,” I said, head weaving side to side, “I’m fine, really, I just—” But Julie had already slipped out of the booth and gone to settle the tab. I stared at a bit of foam on the lip of the beer pitcher until she came back. “Come on,” she said, prodding me in the shoulder. “I’ll take you home.”
    Her fingers didn’t feel so nice this time; when I looked up, her expression was unsmiling and cold. “I can walk home,” I suggested.
    â€œI wouldn’t count on it.”
    â€œAre you sure you can drive?”
    Julie let out a terse bark of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so,” she said. “I only had the one glass, remember?”
    It was a very short ride, but by the time we reached Mrs. Winslow’s I was starting to nod out. “Is this it?” Julie asked, nudging me awake. “You said 39 Temple Street, right?”
    I swung my head up. We were parked in front of a Victorian, but it took a moment to be sure it was the right Victorian. “I think this is it,” I said. “But it looks funny. Everything looks funny…”
    â€œGo inside,” Julie commanded. “Go to bed.”
    â€œAll right…” But before getting out of the car, I tried to apologize one more time. Julie cut me off: “Go to bed, Andrew.”
    â€œAll right,” I said. “All right.” I tugged at the door handle; the latch seemed stuck, so I shoved hard and the door swung open with a screech, scuffing off paint in a broad streak against the curb.
    Julie let out a hiss. Then I started to apologize again, and she said: “Just get out of the car. Just get out, and let me shut the door.”
    I got out. With my weight out of the front seat, the right side of the Cadillac bounded up a little, lifting the edge of the door from the curb; but when Julie slid over to pull the door closed it sank down again. Cursing, she tried to scoot her butt as far to the left as possible without letting go of the door handle.
    â€œMaybe I should do this,” I said.
    â€œI’ve got it!” Julie snapped. With a last curse, she gave up the delicate approach and yanked the door shut, scraping off another layer of paint. There was a loud click as she slapped the door button down.
    â€œGood night!” I called to her. “Thanks for inviting me out!” If she said good night back I didn’t hear it; as I bent down to the passenger window to wave good-bye, Julie revved the Cadillac’s engine and pulled away. Just up the street she hit a pothole, generating another huge shower of sparks; this time it sounded like something had actually fallen off the car’s undercarriage, but Julie never even slowed down.
    I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. A present from Adam: though he’d taken half the drunk, he left me the whole hangover. It felt like the house was on fire.
    To make things worse, my father was angry with me: “You shouldn’t have given Adam the body.”
    â€œWell I wouldn’t have,” I said, “if I’d known he was going to behave that way.”
    â€œHow he behaved is beside the point. Running the body is supposed to be your job.”
    â€œBut Julie asked to speak to Adam!”
    â€œAnd that’s why you gave up