Free Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares Page A

box of Rice Krispies at her. She happened to love Rice Krispies. “Efcharisto,” she thanked him, about reaching the limits of her Greek. Grandma had left out bowls and spoons. Bapi handed her the milk.
    They chewed. She looked at him, and he looked into his bowl. Was he annoyed because she was there? Did he like to eat breakfast alone? Was he very disappointed that she couldn’t speak Greek?
    He poured himself another bowl of cereal. Bapi was kind of wiry, but he clearly had a good appetite. It was funny. As she looked at Bapi, she recognized some of her own features. The nose, for instance. Almost everybody else in the family had the famous Kaligaris nose—her father, her aunt, Effie. The big, prominent nose gave character to all who wore it. Of course, her mother had a different nose—a Patmos nose—but even that was sufficiently distinctive.
    Lena’s nose was small, delicate, characterless. She’d always wondered where she’d gotten it, but now she saw it right in the middle of Bapi’s face. Did that mean that she had the true Kaligaris nose? Since she was small she’d secretly wished she had the big family nose. Now that she saw where she got hers, she liked it a little better.
    She made herself stop looking at Bapi. She was no doubt making him uncomfortable. She should definitely say something. It was probably very awkward for her to sit here and not be saying anything.
    “I’m going to make a painting this morning,” she said. She gestured like she was painting.
    He seemed to snap out of his cereal reverie. She knew that feeling so well. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. Whether he understood a word, she couldn’t tell.
    “I was thinking I’d walk down to Ammoudi. Are there stairs all the way down?”
    Bapi considered and nodded. She could tell he wanted to get back to his contemplation of the cereal box. Was he tired of her? Was she annoying him?
    “Okay, well, I’ll see you later. Have a good day, Bapi. Andio .”
    She walked upstairs and packed up her painting things with the oddest feeling that she was Effie and she’d just eaten breakfast with herself.
    She put on the Pants with a wrinkly white linen shirt. She slung her backpack, containing her palette, her foldable easel, and her panels, over her shoulder.
    Just as she reached the stairs, Kostos arrived at the front door, delivering a platter of freshly baked pastries from his grandmother. Grandma hugged him and kissed him and thanked him in such fast Greek that Lena couldn’t make out a single word.
    Grandma spotted Lena and got that look in her eye. Quickly she invited Kostos inside.
    Lena wished Effie were awake. She made for the door.
    “Lena, sit down. Have a pastry,” Grandma ordered.
    “I’m going painting. I need to get started before the sun gets too high and the shadows disappear,” Lena claimed. It wasn’t technically true, because she was starting a new painting today, which meant the shadows could be any which way.
    Kostos migrated toward the front door himself. “I have to get to work, Valia. I’m late already.”
    Grandma happily settled for the idea that at least the two would have to walk together outside. Grandma winked at Lena as she followed Kostos out the door. “He’s a nice boy,” she stage-whispered to Lena. It was Grandma’s constant refrain.
    “You love to paint,” Kostos observed once out in the sunshine.
    “I do,” Lena said. “Especially here.” She wasn’t sure why she offered that last gratuitous bit.
    “I know it’s beautiful here,” Kostos said thoughtfully, looking out over the glittering water. “But I can hardly see it. These are the only views I know.”
    Lena felt the desire for a real conversation coming on. She was interested in what he said. Then she thought of her grandmother, probably watching them through the window.
    “Which way are you walking?” Lena asked. It was a slightly mean trick she was setting up.
    Kostos looked at her sideways, clearly trying to gauge what the