Read Online Burned by Ellen Hopkins - Free Book Online
Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: Religión, Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Family, Juvenile Fiction, Sex, Psychology, Social Issues, Religious, Christian, Christianity, Parents, Values & Virtues, Teenage girls, Psychopathology, Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, Aunts, Problem families, Dysfunctional families, Identity, Alcoholism, Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, Addiction, Nevada, Physical & Emotional Abuse, Novels in Verse, Family Problems, Identity (Psychology), Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon), Mormons
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it the smell? The idea of giving in to temptation? I hadn't a clue.
It was wrong, and I knew it.
Whatever it was, I crumbled like biscotti, in need of black coffee.
It demanded I try it.
A small sip wrinkled my nose.
A big gulp went down like water.
It was bitter.
Aunt J offered sugar and cream, but I wanted the truth of coffee.
It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.
204
What Had Happened to Me
Beer. Tequila. Coffee.
Heavy petting, which,
I had to admit, I enjoyed.
What was next? Excommunication?
What if it was? Could I
deal with that? Could my
family? Would they all
be eonsidered outcasts?
Would they hate me
if they were? Dumb
question, right? So, okay, if they disowned me, like Dad had disowned
Douglas, would I get over it, create a solid
existence without them?
Would I find a way to forgive myself, even
love myself, or would
I react like Molly and end the pain completely?
205
After Breakfast
I asked Aunt J if I could borrow a rifle for a little target practice.
Sure. Why not? They're wasting
away in that cabinet
. Wasting away? "How come?
You must like to shoot."
I do hunt venison once a year.
I don't especially enjoy it.
So much for Annie Oakley.
"Why do you have so many guns?"
Stan collected them, more for show than use. Extravagant, really.
But they were beautiful.
"What do you mean?"
A person only needs three guns-- a good hunting rifle . . .
For filling the freezer with venison once a year ... a handgun for protection, and a scattergun--for varmints
. I had no urge to mess with shotguns.
A big one could take your arm off.
You're welcome to borrow whatever.
Take the pickup and make a day of it.
206
Was she crazy? "Uh, thanks, Aunt
J, but I don't know how to drive."
What? Going on seventeen and you still can't drive?
"Dad said if my husband wants me to know how, he'll have to teach me."
207
The Look on Her Face
Was priceless. I'd
definitely hit some kind of a nerve. Aunt J
gave me a nudge toward the door.
Let's go.
An old Ford pickup, circa 1950-
something, loitered in the scattered
shade of the driveway.
Get in. I'll teach you.
I glanced at the classic truck, with bug-eyed headlights above a big
grill and not a ding under the primer.
Don't worry. You can't hurt her.
I doubted that. But the freedom
Aunt J had offered me was a powerful temptation.
Get in. We'll he fine.
I slid under the steering
wheel, hands shaky as Jell-O.
Had no idea what to do next.
Put the key in the ignition.
In it went, like it wanted to be there. One turn and the motor
sputtered to life.
Right pedal, go. Left pedal, stop.
207
208
I punched the right pedal.
The engine rewed and roared a protest. Aunt J grinned.
First you have to put it in gear. .
Duh! The gearshift.
How many times had I
watched someone use it?
Right now she's in Park.
Oh yeah. P for park,
R for reverse ... "So what
does D stand for?"
And before I knew it, I was.
Drive.
209
We Started Down
A wide dirt track that paralleled the fence line, that paralleled the main road in from town.
Steering came easy enough. turn the wheel, not too hard, and go the direction you Turned it.
The gas pedal wasn't a mystery either. Push
harder, go faster. Let up on it, slow down.
The brakes took a bit of getting used to. Push the pedal easy, slow gently. Stomp? Don't!
After a couple of steering over-corrections and a herky-jerky start or two, I began to get the hang of it.
I was bumping along, thoroughly engrossed in driving a straight line, when Aunt J interrupted. Stop a sec.
Another pickup, a blue Dodge Dakota, had pulled onto the Shoulder on the far side of the fence.
I braked the Ford to a quick stop, as the Dodge's driver
stood up from changing his flat. Morning, Ms. Petrie.
210
Furnace Lips! That killer cute guy knew Aunt J?
Apparently, she knew him, too. Hello, Ethan. Everything okay?
It is now, he said, fiashing that familiär smile. Next time, back to Firestones. These Michelins can't take
It was wrong, and I knew it.
Whatever it was, I crumbled like biscotti, in need of black coffee.
It demanded I try it.
A small sip wrinkled my nose.
A big gulp went down like water.
It was bitter.
Aunt J offered sugar and cream, but I wanted the truth of coffee.
It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.
204
What Had Happened to Me
Beer. Tequila. Coffee.
Heavy petting, which,
I had to admit, I enjoyed.
What was next? Excommunication?
What if it was? Could I
deal with that? Could my
family? Would they all
be eonsidered outcasts?
Would they hate me
if they were? Dumb
question, right? So, okay, if they disowned me, like Dad had disowned
Douglas, would I get over it, create a solid
existence without them?
Would I find a way to forgive myself, even
love myself, or would
I react like Molly and end the pain completely?
205
After Breakfast
I asked Aunt J if I could borrow a rifle for a little target practice.
Sure. Why not? They're wasting
away in that cabinet
. Wasting away? "How come?
You must like to shoot."
I do hunt venison once a year.
I don't especially enjoy it.
So much for Annie Oakley.
"Why do you have so many guns?"
Stan collected them, more for show than use. Extravagant, really.
But they were beautiful.
"What do you mean?"
A person only needs three guns-- a good hunting rifle . . .
For filling the freezer with venison once a year ... a handgun for protection, and a scattergun--for varmints
. I had no urge to mess with shotguns.
A big one could take your arm off.
You're welcome to borrow whatever.
Take the pickup and make a day of it.
206
Was she crazy? "Uh, thanks, Aunt
J, but I don't know how to drive."
What? Going on seventeen and you still can't drive?
"Dad said if my husband wants me to know how, he'll have to teach me."
207
The Look on Her Face
Was priceless. I'd
definitely hit some kind of a nerve. Aunt J
gave me a nudge toward the door.
Let's go.
An old Ford pickup, circa 1950-
something, loitered in the scattered
shade of the driveway.
Get in. I'll teach you.
I glanced at the classic truck, with bug-eyed headlights above a big
grill and not a ding under the primer.
Don't worry. You can't hurt her.
I doubted that. But the freedom
Aunt J had offered me was a powerful temptation.
Get in. We'll he fine.
I slid under the steering
wheel, hands shaky as Jell-O.
Had no idea what to do next.
Put the key in the ignition.
In it went, like it wanted to be there. One turn and the motor
sputtered to life.
Right pedal, go. Left pedal, stop.
207
208
I punched the right pedal.
The engine rewed and roared a protest. Aunt J grinned.
First you have to put it in gear. .
Duh! The gearshift.
How many times had I
watched someone use it?
Right now she's in Park.
Oh yeah. P for park,
R for reverse ... "So what
does D stand for?"
And before I knew it, I was.
Drive.
209
We Started Down
A wide dirt track that paralleled the fence line, that paralleled the main road in from town.
Steering came easy enough. turn the wheel, not too hard, and go the direction you Turned it.
The gas pedal wasn't a mystery either. Push
harder, go faster. Let up on it, slow down.
The brakes took a bit of getting used to. Push the pedal easy, slow gently. Stomp? Don't!
After a couple of steering over-corrections and a herky-jerky start or two, I began to get the hang of it.
I was bumping along, thoroughly engrossed in driving a straight line, when Aunt J interrupted. Stop a sec.
Another pickup, a blue Dodge Dakota, had pulled onto the Shoulder on the far side of the fence.
I braked the Ford to a quick stop, as the Dodge's driver
stood up from changing his flat. Morning, Ms. Petrie.
210
Furnace Lips! That killer cute guy knew Aunt J?
Apparently, she knew him, too. Hello, Ethan. Everything okay?
It is now, he said, fiashing that familiär smile. Next time, back to Firestones. These Michelins can't take
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