Saints of Augustine Read Free

pillow. What had he been dreaming? Not one of the flying dreams; those were the best. No, he’d been dreaming about his parents. They were smiling and posing with their arms around each other, in front of some big hole like the Grand Canyon. They were asking Sam to take their picture. But Sam had forgotten to buy film and didn’t want them to find out. He’d raised the empty camera and peered nervously through the lens. “Say cheese.”
    â€œYou two better not break my laundry basket.” His mom’s voice sounded from the other end of the house.
    â€œParty pooper!”
    â€œHey, Brenda,” Teddy called, “you want me to hang those wall sconces this morning?”
    â€œOh, that would be great, Teddy.”
    Yeah , Sam thought, great . Now the big ape would be slamming a hammer against the wall for the next two hours. So much for sleeping late. Why couldn’t Teddy have a regular job like normal people, insteadof one that gave him these giant pockets of free time? He’d been coming over a lot lately—whenever his mom wasn’t working at the chamber of commerce. He drank their coffee. He ate their food. He made that annoying, prolonged Mmmmm sound whenever he kissed Sam’s mom.
    Sam had stayed up till almost two A.M . the night before, watching a movie he’d selected from the cable menu only because it had a name that sounded dirty: The 400 Blows. It turned out to be old and not dirty at all—except for the part where the boy took off his rain-soaked clothes and slipped into bed naked: For a split second Sam had caught a glimpse of his bare hip, enough to see that the boy really was naked. The kid lived in a little apartment where he had no privacy because his family was always hanging over him—they might as well have made that part of the movie about Sam.
    As if jumping on this very thought, his little sister swung open the door and walked into his room.
    â€œHey! Jeez, could you knock?” Sam yanked the sheet up around his waist.
    â€œDon’t be a grouch,” Hannah said, gazing aroundat his posters and at his clothes lying at the foot of the bed as if the place just amazed her, as if she hadn’t been in his room a million times before. “Slipped my mind, I guess.”
    â€œWell, there’s such a thing as privacy , and you’re violating mine when you come barging in here without knocking.”
    â€œSorry.” Hannah continued to snoop her eyes around the room. She was ten, six years younger than Sam, and too curious—too nosy —for Sam’s taste. She was wearing a ROOF-SMART T-shirt that hung down over her shorts, and her hair was pulled into two ponytails that sprouted out over her ears like crabgrass. “Can I wear your Dolphins cap?”
    â€œNo,” Sam said.
    She pulled the cap off the handle of his closet door and put it on. “Yes, I can. May I?”
    â€œNo.” He reached out and snatched the cap from her head. But then she frowned at him, and he put it back on her and tugged it down over her eyes. “You look like a roadie.”
    â€œWhat’s a roadie?”
    â€œSomeone who follows rock bands around thecountry. Someone so junked out on smack, she can’t even remember which band she’s traveling with.”
    â€œWhat’s smack?” she asked, but she didn’t seem to really want to know (and Sam wouldn’t have told her anyway). “You’re weird.” She was slipping a bare foot down into one of his running shoes. “Mom says to come eat breakfast before it’s lunchtime.”
    â€œI’m not hungry.” He was starving. “Hey, don’t touch my sunglasses.”
    Hannah already had them on. She looked at him, wearing his sunglasses, his Dolphins cap, and his running shoes. Her hips started swaying and her hands pawed the air. “I’m Sam . I’m cool . I’m Sam-I-am .”
    His body was behaving now. He’d