Read The Line That Binds for Free Online Page B

but I didn’t wait for the answer I already knew. “Since you like initials so much, maybe I’ll just call you by yours, BS.”
    He cracked an actual grin, those mischievous dimples highlighting his amusement. “Fair enough. I won’t call you LJ anymore. I’ve got something better anyway.” He pushed the words through his teeth, then stood upright and backed out of the room. “I’ll see you around, Bubbles.”
    I dropped my jaw, ready to protest, but he left before I could stutter a word.
     

     
    “Whoa! What did you do to your hair?” Gavin asked when I stepped into the kitchen. He had his game propped steadily on the breakfast bar while his butt worked the swivel chair back and forth, repeatedly.
    I scrunched my face at him. “I thought the black dye would make it pretty obvious what I did to it.”
    “Whatever, but I think you might have a hard time finding new friends to shop with if you’re going Emo or Goth for the first day of school on Monday.”
    “What makes you an expert on making new friends, huh? Besides, maybe I’m not interested in friends.”
    “You? Not interested in being part of a group of fun-sucking, male-head-decapitating praying manti girls? Yeah, right.”
    He knew my habits too well. Back in Summerlin, when I wasn’t watching out for him, I was shopping with my friends or spending time with my boyfriend, Mark. The same people who hadn’t called, sent a text, or emailed in at least two weeks. Most of them dipped out of my life a couple of months ago when Dad gave us the news about losing his job and our money. They wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with someone who was now considered second class. Friends? Yeah, right.
    “It’s praying mantises. It doesn’t have the same plural form as cactus.” I shrugged the rest of his words off, not wanting to explore the topic further. I was already tired of thinking about all of it, most of all the parts about starting over. We were lucky Aunt Janine left me this place, and even luckier that Simone, the manager of Stockton Estate, let us move in before my eighteenth birthday in April when I’d legally claim the property. I’d hate to think where we’d be otherwise.
    “I got pizza,” Dad announced, walking into the kitchen with two boxes stacked in his hands.
    Typical. We should’ve used that money to help stock the refrigerator and pantry with essentials, but his first purchase was a quick pizza.
    He set the boxes on the extended breakfast bar then shook his gray head of hair. Tiny droplets of water scattered from the short strands. “It’s starting to rain out there. I guess we all need to get used to more of that, huh?”
    Gavin snagged a piece of pizza as soon as the box hit the counter. “Thanks,” he said, ignoring Dad’s latest moving-away-from-the-desert quip.
    “No problem,” Dad replied with some deflation before he turned to me. “Don’t worry,” he added when he caught me staring down the pizza box like it was a human head instead of dinner. “I’m going out tomorrow to check up on some online job ads so I’ll go to the store and get everything we need before I come back.” His brow creased at my silence. “If you don’t trust me, make me a list.”
    Trust you? Right. I should trust you. Just like I trusted you to save our house? Or trusted you to protect the savings accounts from your lovely drug-addicted wife? “I’ll make a list.”
    I ignored his frown as I moved around him to get to the refrigerator. I didn’t really need to do an inventory. Everything we had was small enough to fit into the crammed car with us. It basically amounted to a box of cereal, a cooler of drinks, some chips, and trail mix. I usually shopped for the house so I knew he’d have his hands full tomorrow. Even though I’d love to see him stumble around while he searched for all the items on my list, I was sure he’d have no trouble navigating the small-town grocery store.
    I grabbed a pen and paper from inside a drawer