Read Online Daughters of Eve by Lois Duncan - Free Book Online
Authors: Lois Duncan
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Social Issues, Horror & Ghost Stories, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Adolescence
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drifted off to sleep beneath cotton sheets got up in the night to hunt for blankets, and in the morning the air held a chill and the indescribable tang of autumn. All across Modesta, homeowners scrambled onto rooftops to disconnect air-conditioning units, and housewives sorted through summer clothing and packed it away in storage closets. Laura Snow's mother served hot cereal for breakfast ("With raisins, baby, to give you energy"), and Bambi Ellis reluctantly buttoned a sweater over her sleeveless T-shirt.
Fran Schneider brought her rat cages in from the garage and installed them in her room.
"Your mother's going to freak out," Paula Brummell said. Paula, who lived next door, was Fran's closest friend and had come over to help with the moving. Between them the two girls had managed to carry the four heavy cages in through the back door and up the stairs into Fran's small bedroom where they were now piled in layers, separated by plywood sheeting. Within their confines, the plump white rats scurried anxiously about, peering through the chicken-wire siding at their new surroundings with sharp, pink eyes.
"Probably," Fran agreed without concern. "She freaked out last winter. She refused to come in and clean my room for four whole months. She'd leave the bed linen in the hall outside the door and yell in to me to come get it and change my sheets."
"Won't she try to get you to move them out?" Paula asked.
"Sure, but after a while she'll give up. I can't move them out, and that's all there is to it. They'd die in the garage when the winter cold set in, and I might as well get them in here now so I won't risk losing them." Fran bent to look in at the rats on the lowest tier. "Are you fellas all right in there? I'm sorry we had to jolt you around so much."
"Ugh," Paula said. "I really don't see how you stand them. Doesn't it give you the creeps to sleep in the room with them?"
"Nope," Fran said. "I'm used to the guys. Besides, they're working for me. Every day they're putting me one step closer to that scholarship."
"You're really counting on winning it, aren't you?" Paula regarded her friend with respect "You're not worried about the competition?"
"There isn't any on the local level," Fran said matter-of-factly. "I've checked it out. It's me against Gordon Pellet, and he didn't even decide to enter until last week. What can he throw together before December? It'll be stiffer at state level, but I feel pretty confident about that too. What I've got is something really special."
"What is it?" Paula asked. "You've been working with those things for over a year now, but you've never explained to me exactly what you're doing."
"I haven't wanted to talk about it," Fran said. "The whole thing is so far out, I knew if I told people they'd think I was crazy. I wanted to test it first and see if I could back up my theory with statistics. It's wild—I mean, really wild."
"What is it?"
"You promise you won't tell? Especially not Mr. Carncross. I want to spring it on him right before the competition. This will knock him dead."
"I promise," Paula said. "I give my word as a Daughter of Eve."
"Okay." Fran gestured toward the top cage. "Do you see those?" She drew a deep breath. "They're alcoholics."
"They're what?" Paula asked blankly.
"You heard me right. The rats are alcoholics. They're genetic alcoholics. Their parents were alkies, and their grandparents and their great-grandparents. These poor slobs stay drunk all the time. See how sluggish they are?"
"You mean you feed them alcohol?" Paula asked skeptically.
"They feed themselves alcohol. The desire is bred into them. See those bottles?" Fran pointed at a row of four glass bottles, hung upside down across the far end of the cage. "See that fella going over to drink? He'll choose the one at the far end. There—see? I told you. They all choose that one. I have to refill it a couple of times a day.
Fran Schneider brought her rat cages in from the garage and installed them in her room.
"Your mother's going to freak out," Paula Brummell said. Paula, who lived next door, was Fran's closest friend and had come over to help with the moving. Between them the two girls had managed to carry the four heavy cages in through the back door and up the stairs into Fran's small bedroom where they were now piled in layers, separated by plywood sheeting. Within their confines, the plump white rats scurried anxiously about, peering through the chicken-wire siding at their new surroundings with sharp, pink eyes.
"Probably," Fran agreed without concern. "She freaked out last winter. She refused to come in and clean my room for four whole months. She'd leave the bed linen in the hall outside the door and yell in to me to come get it and change my sheets."
"Won't she try to get you to move them out?" Paula asked.
"Sure, but after a while she'll give up. I can't move them out, and that's all there is to it. They'd die in the garage when the winter cold set in, and I might as well get them in here now so I won't risk losing them." Fran bent to look in at the rats on the lowest tier. "Are you fellas all right in there? I'm sorry we had to jolt you around so much."
"Ugh," Paula said. "I really don't see how you stand them. Doesn't it give you the creeps to sleep in the room with them?"
"Nope," Fran said. "I'm used to the guys. Besides, they're working for me. Every day they're putting me one step closer to that scholarship."
"You're really counting on winning it, aren't you?" Paula regarded her friend with respect "You're not worried about the competition?"
"There isn't any on the local level," Fran said matter-of-factly. "I've checked it out. It's me against Gordon Pellet, and he didn't even decide to enter until last week. What can he throw together before December? It'll be stiffer at state level, but I feel pretty confident about that too. What I've got is something really special."
"What is it?" Paula asked. "You've been working with those things for over a year now, but you've never explained to me exactly what you're doing."
"I haven't wanted to talk about it," Fran said. "The whole thing is so far out, I knew if I told people they'd think I was crazy. I wanted to test it first and see if I could back up my theory with statistics. It's wild—I mean, really wild."
"What is it?"
"You promise you won't tell? Especially not Mr. Carncross. I want to spring it on him right before the competition. This will knock him dead."
"I promise," Paula said. "I give my word as a Daughter of Eve."
"Okay." Fran gestured toward the top cage. "Do you see those?" She drew a deep breath. "They're alcoholics."
"They're what?" Paula asked blankly.
"You heard me right. The rats are alcoholics. They're genetic alcoholics. Their parents were alkies, and their grandparents and their great-grandparents. These poor slobs stay drunk all the time. See how sluggish they are?"
"You mean you feed them alcohol?" Paula asked skeptically.
"They feed themselves alcohol. The desire is bred into them. See those bottles?" Fran pointed at a row of four glass bottles, hung upside down across the far end of the cage. "See that fella going over to drink? He'll choose the one at the far end. There—see? I told you. They all choose that one. I have to refill it a couple of times a day.
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