Free Dune Road by Jane Green Page B

toward the house, kicking up stray stones on the road, clad in none other than Kit’s lilac yoga pants.
    “Get those off right this second,” Kit says, trying hard to keep her voice calm.
    “What? ”
    “You know what. Those are my pants. How many times have I told you not to take my things without asking? I’ve been looking for them all day, and I cannot believe you had the nerve to just help yourself.”
    “Oh relax.” Tory shoves past her mother and starts heading up the stairs. “I don’t even like them that much.”
    “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” Kit yells, starting up behind Tory, who runs into her room, slamming the door. “That’s it. No more clothes. I’m not buying you anything else this summer.”
    “I don’t care,” Tory shrieks. “Daddy will buy me stuff anyway, and he spends much more money than you. I wish I lived with him! I hate you! ”
    “You spoiled little brat.” Kit can’t help herself; but Tory undoubtedly knew that her words were like a red rag to a bull. “How dare you! I work my ass off to try and buy you nice things, to give you what you need, and this is how you repay me? By acting like one of those bratty spoiled girls you hang out with, who snap their fingers and get whatever they want? That’s it. I’m canceling the Jonas Brothers tickets.”
    “Nooooooooooooooo! ” comes a wail from behind the bedroom door. “You can’t do that.”
    “Oh no? Watch me. When you’re rude to me, young lady, there is a consequence, and this, I’m afraid, is the consequence.”
    “But how am I going to tell Paige? ” The wail becomes louder. “You can’t do this to me.”
    “You’ll have to think about how to tell Paige. It’s not my problem.” Kit’s shoulders sag with the drama.
    “I’m sorry.” The door opens and Tory appears, now contrite. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m really sorry. I’m sorry I was rude and I’m sorry I took your clothes without asking.” Standing in underpants she hands Kit the yoga pants in a ball.
    “Okay,” Kit takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I shouted too.” She opens her arms and she and Tory hug.
    “So I can still go to the Jonas Brothers, right? ”
    Kit detaches and shakes her head. “No.”
    “But I just said sorry,” Tory starts to wail again. “You said okay.”
    “I did. And I accept your apology, but the consequence hasn’t changed.”
    “Nooooooooooooooo!” The door is slammed again and Tory collapses in a sobbing mess on her bed.
    Kit goes into the office, tired and upset, to find Buckley doing what he always does when his sister starts screaming: sitting coma-like in front of the computer playing Club Penguin.
    Thank God, she thinks, I’m going to yoga. Thank God I’m doing something for myself. Putting the lilac pants in the washing machine, she gazes out of the window wondering when her life became so damned hard.
     
    Kit manages to calm down by the time she walks into Namaste. There is something about the incense, the ambient music, the soft lighting, and her breathing changes, always, as soon as she steps through the door.
    She takes her place in the yoga class, waiting for the teacher to arrive. In her usual yoga class there are just the same five women that show up every week, but here she knows no one. A different crowd, who clearly know one another, who just smile at Kit but don’t include her in the conversation.
    The door opens and a stranger walks in, male, handsome. You can feel, instantly, the energy in the room shifting, and she knows this is the man Tracy was talking about.
    He is impossible to miss.
    Tracy isn’t taking this class—she tended to teach the Ashtanga yoga and this is Vinyasa—but after he rolls out his mat, Kit notices Tracy peeking in through the round glass window in the door, grinning and giving Kit a discreet thumbs-up.
    Breathing in and out, in and out, absorbing the peace and calm in the room, Kit starts to forget about the stress and drama at home, starts to feel