Free The Sweetest Thing by J. Minter Page B

wrap my mind around was how easy it was for Adam to charm everybody I knew … including me.

CHAPTER 11
RULES ARE MADE … TO BE BROKEN
    I had such a nice time with Bennett at coffee that I completely lost track of time. It was dark when I finally got home, and I fumbled with the lock to let myself into the house. Noodles jumped on me the minute I was inside, his dark brown eyes glowing with excitement and love. I sat down on the floor and he kissed my face, wriggling his whole puffball body with happiness. But judging by the awful silence that filled the house, he was the only one glad to see me.
    â€œHello?” I called. “Anybody home?”
    Maybe I’d gotten lucky—maybe Feb and Patch had forgotten about being responsible and taken off for a party at Butter or something. But then a stern voice called, “We’re in here, Flan.” My good mood deflated instantly, and a searing feeling of annoyance replaced it.
    I went into the kitchen, where they were sitting much as they had been the other night, Patch with thenewspaper in front of him, Feb dressed in another vintage housewife outfit—gingham dress, white ruffly apron—with a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn in her lap. This time, though, there weren’t any trays of cookies on the table, and Feb and Patch were both looking at me with deadly serious expressions.
    â€œWhat?” I said, setting down my bag and purse. “Stop with the silent treatment already.” I walked over to the fridge to get myself a bottle of juice.
    â€œHey, Flanny, take a seat. Feb’s pretty worked up,” said Patch.
    I snorted as I popped open a Nantucket Nectar. “Okay, but you guys better make it fast, because I’ve got a lot of homework.”
    â€œEnough with the attitude, Flan,” February snapped. “Now listen. The last time Mom and Dad were home, Patch and I saw how happy you were, and we started talking about how maybe a little bit of discipline was just what you needed. Neither of us had that when we were teenagers, and look how we ended up.”
    I looked from Feb, in her heels and apron, to Patch, who was wearing his usual T-shirt and jeans.
    â€œYeah, you guys are completely out of control,” I said dryly. “And Patch is still a teenager, in case you forgot.”
    â€œListen, Flan, I know this might not make sense toyou now. But at my internship, I’m starting to see the way the real world works, and believe me, it’s nothing like the way we grew up. No all-night parties in the middle of the week, no VIP passes, no celebrities. Well, okay, this firm does handle a lot of entertainment cases, but you know what I mean.” She wagged her knitting needle at me menacingly. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but it’s already eight o’clock—you didn’t call to tell me where you were, even though I told you yesterday I want you to come straight home after school. So your brother and I”—Patch shifted uncomfortably in his chair—“decided it might help us provide you with structure if we set some ground rules.”
    I laughed so hard, strawberry-guava juice almost came shooting out my nose. “You’re going to give me
rules
? I’m the good one, remember?”
    Feb picked up a piece of paper from the table. A recipe for mojitos was scribbled on the back.
    â€œRule number one,” she read. “Come home directly after school. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.”
    â€œWhat?” I exploded. “That’s totally ridiculous. When am I supposed to hang out with my friends? And hello? Are you familiar with the word
hypocrisy
?”
    â€œFriends are more than welcome here. If they’re not the sort of people you’re willing to bring into thishouse, well … then maybe they’re not friends worth having.” Feb looked down at her piece of paper again. “Rule number two. You now