Curse Of The Spellmans by Lisa Lutz

Author:Lisa Lutz
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781416526414
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2009-02-10T06:00:00+00:00

I took the first shift with my sister, which meant sitting on the bathroom floor watching Rae heave up everything she had consumed in the previous six hours. Henry took the second shift, which involved an almost scientific replenishment of fluids, I would later discover. I slept eight hours that night out of sheer exhaustion and woke, still in pain but somewhat refreshed, at eleven A.M.

THE MORNING AFTER

Saturday, March 18

1100 hrs

I entered the kitchen to the smell of pancakes, toast, and eggs (not sizzling, but poaching).

"Can I have bacon too?" Rae asked Henry. Rae, I should mention, was drinking orange juice, appearing not any shade of green or yellow, and sounding almost chipper.

"No," Henry flatly replied.

"Good morning," I said, entering the kitchen.

"I'm really sorry about last night, Isabel," said Rae.

"Okay," I replied, studying her for signs of irrepressible nausea and incapacitating head-throbbing.

"Why can't I have bacon?"

"Because you woke me up in the middle of the night to remove you from a party you got wasted at. That's why," Henry replied.

I slipped over to Henry by the stove and whispered subtly, "Let her have the bacon. It will help her hangover."

"She's not hungover," Henry said.

"How is that possible?" I asked, feeling downright hostile.

"Because," Henry replied. "She barfed up everything she drank and then I made her consume half a gallon of water, two quarts of Gatorade, and three slices of toast before she went to bed."

"Why did you do that?" I asked, annoyed.

"So she wouldn't have a hangover."

"She's supposed to have a hangover right now. You," I said to Rae, "are supposed to feel sicker than you've felt in your entire life."

"It's not like I feel one hundred percent," said Rae.

"What purpose is a hangover going to serve?" Henry asked.

"Cause and effect. She'll realize that drinking too much makes her feel ill and therefore she will hopefully not drink again, or at the very least drink moderately."

"Really?" Henry replied, returning his attention to the stove. "How many hangovers did it take you until you learned to moderate?"

"One hundred and seventy-eight,"1 I replied, graciously losing the argument. I poured myself a cup of Stone-brewed coffee2 and sat down across from Rae. Henry placed two poached eggs and dry whole-grain toast in front of my sister.

"Are you sure you don't want any pancakes?" Henry asked.

"No, thanks," Rae replied with a little too much conviction. Then she began dousing her eggs with ketchup.

"Can I have pancakes?" I asked, suspicious that Rae was turning down one of her favorite meals for morning, noon, and night.

"How many?" Stone asked.

"Three," I replied.

"She'll have one," said Rae.

"No, I'm hungry. I'll have three."

"I tried," Rae mumbled under her breath.

While Stone mixed the pancake batter and poured it into the pan, I decided it was time to interrogate my sister regarding her previous night's activities.

"Why didn't you tell me you were going to a party?"

"Did you always tell Mom and Dad when you were going to a party?"

My lack of credibility was a problem, I realized. I decided to take a different tack.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.