A View From Forever (Thompson Sisters Book 3) Read Free Page A

William and Kate and all their drama?”
    I shake my head. “No—Prince George-Phillip and Lady Anne Davies… she’s having a baby soon, apparently.”
    “Never heard of her. But I know who he is, he spoke at my graduation. He was Ambassador to the UN at the time.”
    “He’s second cousin to the Queen?”
    “Something like that. Basically, what you’re saying is that Mom’s gone off her meds.”
    It takes no more than half a second before I can’t contain the laugh. Then both of us are giggling , hard. It’s not often I get to spend time with Carrie, and the twins are still in middle school and don’t really get some things. I wipe a small tear from my eyes.
    “It’s so good to see you, Carrie.”
    She smiles, the warm and loving smile I’ve always known from my big sister. “It’s good to see you, Alexandra. What about you? What’s happening in your life? Are you still thinking about Columbia?”
    I nod. “Yes. Dad is not happy about that. He wants me to go to Harvard.”
    “It wouldn’t be a bad choice,” she says. “Though obviously I’m in favor of Columbia.”
    “I’d be locked into his future, Carrie. I don’t want to be a diplomat. I want to live in the same city, not move every three years until the airports and embassies become a blur and I can’t remember what year I was in what country. You know?”
    She nods. “I do. You know, though, just because you go to Harvard doesn’t mean you’re committing to his life. Look at Julia. She went off the track completely.”
    “True,” I say. “Though I don’t see any rock bands in my future. Dad still hasn’t forgiven her.”
    Carrie shrugs. “He’ll come around.”
    I suppress my doubts. “I’m seriously thinking about law school.”
    “Yeah?” Carrie looks skeptical. “Like corporate law?”
    I shake my head. “No. That sounds horrible. I want to do something meaningful. Can I tell you a secret?”
    Looking slightly amused, she nods. I mockingly half whisper, “I want to go to work for the ACLU.”
    Carrie’s eyes widen. Then she snickers. Just once. “Dad would rather you married a punk rocker, I think. Bravo.” She’s probably right. The American Civil Liberties Union is an organization best not mentioned in our home.
    We laugh, hard now, and I find myself wishing my stay in New York was going to be longer—long enough to spend a lot more time with my sister. Even though I hadn’t asked for it, in the end I’m grateful my parents got involved and that I got to see her.
With the dawn of redeeming grace (Dylan)
    Blah, blah blah.
    That’s what the speakers have been saying for the last forty-five minutes at the reception at the American-Israel Friendship League.
    Blah blah blah.
    First they’ve been thanking people none of us have ever heard of for making cooperation between the two countries possible. A retired ambassador speaks, followed by someone from the Anti-Defamation League, then two speakers from the Council of Great City Schools. On and on and on.
    “Check that girl out,” Mike from Chicago says, his voice none too quiet. His eyes are on one of the girls from the Milwaukee delegation. She’s probably a junior, and she’s leaning forward with one knee crossed over the other. She stands out in this crowd of preppies: colorful spiked hair, a black leather jacket and bright pink combat boots. She’s cute, really—if anything, she kind of reminds me of Spot, a girl I used to know who hung around the Masquerade and a few other lesser alternative clubs. Spot—I don’t know what her real name is—was creative as hell, smart, cute, and addicted to painkillers. Her parents had kicked her out, and there were a few times we ended up shacking up together. Not out of lust or attraction—she was strictly a lesbian—but out of a need to stay warm on cold, homeless nights.
    Yes, homeless. See, my Mom is a parent of the tough-love variety, and when I dropped out of high school, she gave me an ultimatum. Go back to