Giftchild Read Free Page B

pose her with a tomato. You can pretend it's a still-life."
    "Yes," he said. "I'm sure edgy is exactly what your mom will be looking for."
    I shrugged. "I bet there will be a lot of poop. Remember that guy who took stills of his own feces? It'll totally be museum worthy."
    Rodney laughed. "Dadaist baby photos. Could be a niche market."
    "See," I said. "I knew I could get you to agree."
    But he shook his head, like he hadn't. If Anna came home, I'd have to let her win him over herself.
    When Anna came home. When . Not if.
    The house was dark when we arrived. I unlocked the door and turned on all the lights as we walked upstairs.
    Across the hall from my room, I could see through the door to Anna's new room, with her name spread across the wall in polka-dotted letters. There had been two names on the wall before hers. Mom had the rest of the alphabet stashed in the downstairs closet.
    I'd told Rodney I'd show him the pictures, but instead I left my camera on my dresser. There would be plenty of time to fall in love with the pictures tomorrow, once Anna was really ours.
    I sat cross-legged on my bed, opening my physiology book. Rodney sat on my chair, leaning back so his legs stretched halfway across my floor. I held the chart up for him to see. "Which one is the inferior nasal concha?"
    "Come on," Rodney said. "Aren't you too distracted for this?"
    I shook my head. "This is the distraction."
    "I can think of a better one. I'll buy you dinner. We could order pizza."
    I hadn't eaten, but I still wasn't hungry. I turned the chart so I could see. "It's this one," I said, putting my finger on the chart. When I checked the book, I had to slide my finger over half an inch to find the right spot for the label. "Whatever. I know it's in the nose. Isn't that enough?"
    "Do me a favor," Rodney said. "Don't become a doctor."
    "Come on," I said. "Save me from the madness of waiting for my parents to come home."
    Rodney eyed Anna's room across the hall. "All right," he said, twirling his finger in the air. "Pin the anatomy on the chart. The ethmoid sinus is . . . here."
    I checked the key in the book. He'd pointed right at it. "Never mind," I said. "Now I'm just depressed. I didn't even have to tell you what it was called."
    "Meh," Rodney said. "I got lucky."
    Lucky, my ass. We both knew it didn't matter how many hours I studied, or how many he didn't. He would still score half a grade higher than me on the test, like he always did.
    My cell phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Dad. My heart thudded. I'd just seen them at the hospital. Why would he be calling me now?
    Rodney snapped open his handheld game system, no doubt glad for the distraction from the studying. It also let him avoid staring at me while I was on the phone.
    I took a deep breath. It didn't mean anything. Maybe they were calling to tell me that they were coming home.
    Maybe.
    "Hey," I said into the phone.
    "Penny?" Dad said. His voice sounded strained.
    It took me a second to answer. "Yeah?"
    "We're on our way," he said. "But we're not bringing the baby with us."
    No , I thought. No, no.
    And then he said it. The last words anyone in my family wanted to hear: "I'm sorry," he said. "But Lily has decided not to go through with the adoption."
    I closed my eyes.
    We'd been through this before, but instead of getting easier, each time got worse. Mom couldn't go through this again. I couldn't go through this again.
    And yet, here we were.

 
    Chapter Two
    Week One
     
    "She can't do that." I said. Lily had eaten dinner with us more often than not this last month. She'd gone out with us on my birthday. I'd helped her with her algebra.
    "She can," Dad said. "We haven't signed anything. She still has rights."
    Rodney shifted in his chair, but I didn't look up. He could probably tell what was happening just from the look on my face. I kept the phone pressed to my ear and bit a nail. "So she can just use us and then . . ."
    Dad's voice got sharp, though I could tell he