Read The Fifty-Seven Lives of Alex Wayfare for Free Online Page A

when I thought he might not be a good guy after all. And most importantly, I remember not having déjà vu. No bad dreams. No visions. No escape from the chicken pox, not even for one second.
    â€œWe’re watching that one again?” Claire says, tossing a throw pillow onto Mega Couch from the other side of the room. “We’ve seen it a hundred tiiiiimes.” She bends down to swipe another pillow off the floor. Her chestnut hair spills in front of her face.
    I’ve always been jealous of how much she looks like Mom – perfect apple cheeks, dark eyes, willowy frame, that satin hair – while Audrey and I look just like Dad. Dusky blond hair, pale gray eyes, button noses. But one thing Claire didn’t inherit from Mom is her penchant for drama. She doesn’t have one ounce of Mom’s calm manner and even temper.
    â€œIt’s Alex’s turn to pick,” Mom says. “What she says goes.”
    â€œBut it’s so unfair.” Claire flings the other pillow across the room. “We never watch anything new. I can’t talk to my friends about these old movies. They haven’t heard of any of them.”
    â€œSo?” I say, kneeling down on the floor and sticking Charade in the DVD player.
    â€œSo you don’t have any friends. You don’t know what it’s like.”
    Mom unfolds one of Gran’s afghans and drapes it over the back of the couch. “That’s not true. Alex has friends.”
    Claire fists her hands on her hips. “Name one.”
    Mom’s face goes a little blank as she thinks about it. Then she says, “Paisley,” and smiles at me. “She sits next to you in Sunday School.”
    I turn my head to the side so she can’t see me grimace. Paisley isn’t exactly my friend. She does sit next to me in Sunday School, but we never speak. She’s weird, even for my standards. For one, she always wears flannel pajamas and hiking boots. To church and to school. And two? She always has a handful of mayonnaise packets in her backpack.
    Which she snacks on.
    During class.
    I shudder just thinking about the sound she makes sucking on those packets.
    â€œAnd what about Jensen?” Mom says. “He’s been your friend since you two were in the church nursery together.”
    I roll my eyes. “Mom, just because Paisley and Jensen are in my general vicinity at church and school doesn’t mean they’re my friends.”
    â€œSee?” Claire says. “Jensen isn’t her friend. She just has that huge crush on him still.”
    I don’t even attempt to dispute it like I normally would. Claire’s like a pit bull when it comes to arguing. Once she sinks her teeth in, she doesn’t let go. And I don’t have the energy to spar with her tonight. Besides, it’s not like my crush on Jensen was ever a secret in this family. Even Pops knows about it. He used to pinch me right above my knee where it tickles, and if I laughed, it meant I was “boy crazy.” Boy crazy for Jensen Peters.
    I laughed every time, dammit.
    â€œCan’t you just try a new movie?” Claire asks, sticking a brightly colored DVD case under my nose. It looks like some sort of tween musical. I resist the urge to gag. “I saw it at Madeline’s and it’s so awesome. I know you’d like it if you just gave it a tryyy.” Her whining is truly an art form. She’s as incessant and irritating as the seagulls down at the docks in the summer.
    Again, I’m too tired to argue. I pull the DVD case from her fingers and pop it open. “Fine. You guys watch this, and I’ll eat in my room. Happy?” I flip Charade out of the disc drive, and I shove Claire’s movie into the player a little too hard.
    Mom notices. “No,” she says, kneeling beside me. She switches out the DVDs and hands Claire’s movie back to her. “We’re watching Charade.”
    â€œThis is so