Read Online Gifted by Beth Evangelista - Free Book Online Page B

operated, I was suddenly transported back to the fourth grade, peering into the tank of Nippy the Hamster. The resemblance was uncanny, and it took a full minute to shake off the memory and get my mind back on business matters. But eventually I did.
    â€œAre you going to send me home?” I asked, blinking at him engagingly. He didn’t look at me.
    â€œYou’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he sneered. “No, you don’t get off that easy, George. You’re staying right here with me.”
    Hallelujah!
I thought. “What do I have to do?”
    â€œHard work,” he said, sneering at his melon. “I’ll bet you’ve never done that before, and I’ve always felt that you were long overdue.”
    This gave me a sinking feeling, but at least I was staying at camp, which was the main thing.
    â€œYou know, George,” he said, chewing thoughtfully, “you surprised me last night. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
    â€œ
Thanks
,” I said. It sounded like a compliment.
    â€œYou’ve proved you’re pretty good at making a mess.Now I’m wondering just how good you are at cleaning one up.”
    I gulped, and a sizable chunk of Frosted Pop-Tart got wedged in my throat. Mr. Zimmerman smacked me on the back sadistically while I choked it down, and I noticed quite a few pairs of curious eyes taking in our little drama.
    â€œFeeling better?” he asked in an insincere way.
    I nodded, feeling anything but better. My eyes fell on Anita sitting maybe twenty feet away. She was probably the only one in the room not looking at me, and I wondered how she could have forgotten me so easily.
    â€œFinish up, George,” Mr. Zimmerman said, standing up to take his tray back. “Daylight is wasting.”
    Daylight is hardly wasting
, I thought.
It just got started
. But I kept my mouth shut, squared my shoulders, and rose to follow his example. Today I would concentrate on being as humble and contrite as was humanly possible to impress him with the new and improved George R. Clark. Then when the opportunity presented itself, I would find a way to get those apes into that bunker …
    I looked over at Them, at Their buzzed meatheads and Their phony sympathetic expressions. Sam signaled me with his thumb and forefinger, forming the okay sign, and I did it back to him, thinking,
Okay to you, my fine, hairless friend. Vengeance will soon be mine. Retribution is getting all set to rear its ugly head and make yours
spin.
    Then I turned to follow my new life-partner out of the mess hall and into the Compound, little knowing that he was leading me to a fate worse than death.

Chapter 14
    The girls’ latrine
. Mr. Zimmerman knocked on the door, and when nothing but silence answered him, he pulled it open and made it stay that way with a convenient nearby garbage can.
    â€œWhy are we stopping here?” I asked.
    â€œWe are stopping here because here is where we stay!” he said, not untriumphantly. He walked into the building’s murky depths, and I had no choice but to follow. Surely we were breaking a law of some kind, if only a law of nature! But I knew better than to try to appeal to his sense of propriety, since he probably didn’t have one, so I continued to keep my mouth shut.
    The door led into a little, recessed, alcove sort of room decorated with a counter and a couple of filthy mirrors, but we kept right on walking until we hit the main room, or “center stage,” as he called it. There was a shower area at the far end, and in the foreground a dozen sinks stood opposite a dozen stalls.
    I saw immediately what my punishment was to be. Alllined up and waiting for me were a pile of rags, a big bucket, and a cardboard box filled with an assortment of toxic cleaning products. Mr. Z held out a pair of latex dishwashing gloves and said, “You can start with the floor over in that corner, George. Oh, and by the way, I’d be