Free The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares Page B

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.
    â€œLena, sit down. Have a pastry,” Grandma ordered.
    â€œI'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.
    â€œYou love to paint,” Kostos observed once out in the sunshine.
    â€œI do,” Lena said. “Especially here.” She wasn't sure why she offered that last gratuitous bit.
    â€œI 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.
    â€œWhich 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 best answer would be. Honesty prevailed. “Downhill. To the forge.”
    Easy enough. “I'm heading uphill. I'm going to paint the interior today.” She began drifting away from him, up the hill.
    He was obviously unhappy. Did he discern that she'd set him up? Most boys weren't that sensitive to rejection.
    â€œOkay,” he said. “Have a good day.”
    â€œYou too,” she said breezily.
    It was kind of a shame in a way, walking uphill, because she'd woken today with a real lust to paint the boathouse down in Ammoudi.
    Tibba-dee,
    You would hate this place. Wholesome, all-American people doing sports all day. High fives are common. I even witnessed a group hug. Sports clichés all day long.
    Almost makes you happy to be at Wallman's, don't it?
    Just kidding, Tib.
    Of course, I love it. But every day I'm here, I'm glad my real life is not like this, full of people like me, ‘cause then I wouldn't have you, would I?
    Oh, I'm in love. Did I tell you that yet? His name is Eric. He's a coach and 100% off-limits. But you know how I get.
    Love your BFF,
Bee
    When Tibby got back to Wallman's, she discovered two things: first, that she had “performed a firable offense” by skipping out on so much of her shift (as Duncan had wasted no time in informing her). She could have a last chance, but she wouldn't be paid for the part of the day she did work. Tibby was beginning to think she would owe money to Wallman's at the end of this job.
    The second discovery was the fainting girl's wallet lying next to her own wallet in her plastic, see-through bad-employee bag. Oh, shit.
    She found the library card listing the girl's name: Bailey Graffman. Tibby walked outside to the pay phone. The white pages, thank goodness, listed one Graffman with two
f
s on a street near Wallman's.
    Tibby got right back on her bike and rode the few blocks to