T is for...he's a TOTAL jerk (Grover Beach Team #3) by Piper Shelly Page A

concern anyway.
    A few minutes later, Cloey walked into the kitchen with her father and they both stopped to stare at us for a moment. Pam and I had fooled around a bit and were laughing so hard about a misplaced brushstroke of hers that now made the guy in her picture, who apparently should resemble Uncle Jack, look like a horny guy ready for action.
    “Hi, darling,” Pam said as Jack came to kiss her on the cheek. “Sorry, we didn’t hear you come in.”
    “I noticed that.” He slung his arms around her hips and studied the painting. “Is that me? And is that intentional?”
    The three of us laughed again, but not Cloey. She stood still in the entrance to the dining area and scowled at me like I had eaten the last piece of her beloved white chocolate.
    “Hi, Cloey.” I tried for a friendly voice, one with a conciliatory tone.
    She just snorted, then ran her long fingers through her pigtails. “Mom, where’s Rosa? I’m starving.”
    “I gave her the day off, honey. It’s her son’s birthday and she wanted to spend it with him,” Pam answered.
    “Great. So am I supposed to have a soda for dinner?” Cloey muttered.
    Pamela wiggled out of her husband’s arms with a proud beam. “Dinner is almost ready. I cooked tonight.”
    “You?” both my uncle and Cloey blurted out.
    I didn’t know what was so special about that, but then I hadn’t lived in this house long enough to know all the house rules.
    “Yes. Me,” Pam said over her shoulder as she walked to the stove. I picked up her irritation. “I cooked before Rosa came to us, and none of you ever complained.”
    Jack had laid his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. He looked at my aunt and said, “There was no need for you to get your hands dirty, Pam. We can go out for dinner.”
    Pamela pulled a delicious-smelling parmesan chicken out of the oven and placed it on the marble counter. “It’s no big deal. In fact, I’ve always enjoyed cooking. I was really looking forward to doing it today.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “Please, don’t spoil it for me now. Let’s just eat.” Her warm smile reappeared as she looked at me. “Can I get you to clear the table, Sammy?”
    I jumped up from my seat. “Of course.” With that stupid drama going on, my butt had frozen to the chair, the pencil still clenched between my fingers. We didn’t have a Rosa back in Cairo, or wherever we had lived in the past. My mom always cooked for us. I had found it totally normal to find Pam in the kitchen today. Obviously, in this house it was not.
    I packed my and Tony’s sketches and rushed upstairs, then washed my hands and came back down to a nicely decorated dining table. I slid into the seat opposite my cousin and held out my plate when Pam dished out the meal.
    Everyone was silent. I wondered if Pam’s cooking was a bigger issue than I had thought. At least they seemed to like her food, because Jack and Cloey both tucked in like there was no tomorrow.
    “That,” I said around a bite, pointing my fork to the second helping of chicken on my plate, “tastes fabulous, Pam.”
    She looked at me from the corner of her eye, and her lips curved in a happy smile. “Thank you, honey.”
    Cloey’s head snapped up so fast that I almost dropped my fork. She scowled at me, then at her mom, and finally at me again. Sometimes that girl totally weirded me out. All the more reason to make up with her, and make up fast.
    “Hey, Cloey,” I said and took a sip from my lemonade. “I thought we could hang out a bit tonight, maybe grab some ice cream and watch a DVD or something.”
    “Actually, I’m meeting up with Brin and Ker in an hour. We’re going to watch a movie in town.” Cold, emotionless. I hated the aversion she shoved in my direction.
    “You should take Sam with you,” Pamela suggested, and Jack agreed.
    I wondered if her father’s approving look was the reason why Cloey finally blew a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and said, “Fine. Be ready