Strangely Normal - By Tess Oliver Page 0,13

an honor student up until last week when your aunt found my mom’s joint perched on the top of my backpack.”

Her eyes widened. “No way. Aunt Julie must have had a stroke.”

“She was actually pretty cool about it. My mom cried about it all day. She had me when she was sixteen, and we’ve always been more like friends than like mother and daughter. We’re really close. She can take one look at me as I walk in the door and know exactly what kind of day I had. My dad and I are close too. He has always had the dream of becoming a rock star. I think that’s what has always stood in the way of him holding a real job. I think deep down he figured if he ever got trapped in a mundane nine to five job like other guys his age then his dream would be shattered forever. The big break he needed just never happened.” I laughed. “You should have seen him when I told him about coming here for the summer. He was pacing our apartment with a starry-eyed look that only a true man-crush could produce.”

“We’ll have to get them together this summer.”

“That would be great. My dad would have to be tranquilized first, but he would love that.”

Finley’s phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen and went back to her sandwich. “Let’s remember to exchange numbers to put in our cell phones.”

I stared down at the half-eaten sandwich on my plate. Occasionally, our family had splurged on a prepaid phone but it was definitely a luxury.

Finley seemed to sense what I was thinking. “I’m a knucklehead. I don’t know why I assume everyone has a phone. Honestly, I hate having one, but my dad insists that I carry it. He calls a lot to check in on me.”

“That’s sweet. He sounds like a good dad.”

“He is. It’s just he’s so busy, he’s rarely home. I’ve been trying to convince him to retire from the whole rock scene, but he still loves it. But I worry about him when he’s on tour. He always gets rundown and then he gets sick.”

“Your dad is living the life my dad always dreamed of.”

Her phone vibrated again. She glanced at it and then ignored it.

“I’ll bet you have a million different friends texting you,” I said. “That would get annoying fast.”

“Nah, only a handful. I don’t give my number out much. It’s kind of hard to stay private when you’re the daughter of a rock legend. My dad has forbidden us to use Facebook too. We get all kinds of weirdoes posting on there.”

“Wow, I hadn’t thought of that.”

One of Black Thunder’s songs jingled through the ring tone on her phone. She sighed audibly and pressed it to her ear. “What do you want?” she asked. “In the kitchen. Make your own lunch. You’re the reason the cook quit.” She placed the phone down again.

Seconds later, footsteps plodded down the hallway. Jude stepped into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans. His scrutinizing gaze flashed my way. Just like his sister, he was definitely a person who could steal the attention of a crowded room. And he seemed well-aware of it. I made a point to focus on my sandwich. As comfortable as I’d felt eating lunch with Finley, her brother had stripped that confidence instantly.

The dogs lifted their big heads as he walked over and flopped onto the couch. He plunked his feet, unwieldy cuff and all, hard onto a highly polished coffee table. “Hey, Freak Show,” Jude called without looking back, “bring me that carton of milk, would you?” He switched on the television.

Finley’s blue eyes skewered the back of his head, but she jumped off the stool and went to the refrigerator. She pulled out the milk and then walked to a cupboard and opened it.

“I don’t need a glass.” He called again without looking back.

“Other people might want to drink from this carton, you swine.” Finley looked at me. “When it’s in an insulting context, we always say swine instead of pig. Some Pig is super sensitive.”

Jude twisted around this time. “How much is in there?”

Finley shook it. “It’s still half full Or as you would probably say, half-empty.”

He spun back to face the television. “Like I said, no glass necessary.”

Finley stomped over and placed the carton on the table hard enough that some of the milk splashed out of the top. She returned to the