It was hot. Lena’s father didn’t believe in central air-conditioning because he was Greek, and her mom loathed the window kind of air conditioners because they were loud. Lena stripped down to her push-up bra (handed down from Carmen, who always bought them too small) and a pair of white boxers. She set up the floor fan so it blew directly on her head.
Lena liked to annoy, irritate, and provoke her mother, but she hated actually being in a fight with her. She hated blowing up at Tibby. She hated Kostos and his new girlfriend. She hated Effie for telling her about it. (She liked Grandma for not liking Kostos’s new girlfriend.)
Lena didn’t like fights. She didn’t like yelling and hanging up. She liked the silent treatment okay, but not past the third day.
Lena was a creature of regularity. She had eaten peanut butter on whole wheat bread for the past 507 lunches. She didn’t go in for stimulation.
She heard the doorbell. She refused to get it. Let Effie get it.
She waited and listened. Of course Effie answered it. Effie loved doorbells and phone rings. Then Lena heard Effie screech excitedly. Lena listened harder. She tried to figure out who it could be. Effie didn’t usually screech at the UPS man, but you never knew. Or maybe it was one of her friends with a new haircut or something. That could elicit a screech from Effie.
Lena concentrated on the sounds. She strained to hear the visitor, but she couldn’t make out a voice. It didn’t help that Effie talked five times louder than normal people.
Now they were coming up the stairs. It didn’t have the rapid-fire artillery sound of Effie and one of her friends. The second set of footsteps was slower and heavier. Was it a boy? Was Effie bringing a boy upstairs in the middle of the afternoon?
She heard a voice. It was a boy! Effie was going to take a boy to her bedroom and very possibly make out with him!
Suddenly Lena realized the two sets of footsteps hadn’t taken the turn for Effie’s bedroom, as expected. They were coming in the direction of Lena’s bedroom. Suddenly Lena realized her door was open. She was mostly naked and a boy was coming toward her room and her door was open! Well, it wasn’t like she could have seen this coming. She could count on one hand the number of times a boy had come up these stairs. Her parents were strict that way.
Lena was frozen on the floor. The footsteps were close. If she leapt up to shut the door, they would see her. If she stayed where she was, they would see her. If she got up and grabbed her bathrobe . . .
“Lena?”
At the sound in her sister’s voice—excitement bordering on hysteria—Lena jumped to her feet.
“Lena!”
There was Effie. There indeed was a boy. A tall, familiar, and excessively good-looking one.
Effie had thrown her hand over her mouth at the sight of what Lena was and wasn’t wearing.
The boy stood there looking captivated and amused. He didn’t avert his eyes as fast as he should have.
Lena’s head was fuzzy. Her heart whizzed like a Matchbox racer. Her throat swelled painfully with emotion. She felt heat rising from every part of her body.
“Kostos,” she said faintly. Then she slammed the door in his face.
The Second Summer of the Sisterhood
Available everywhere April 2003
Excerpt copyright (c) 2003 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy, Inc., company, and Ann Brashares. Published by Delacorte Press.
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Copyright © 2001 by 17th Street Productions, an Alloy Online, Inc. company, and Ann Brashares.
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The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants Page 21