Read Online In the Unlikely Event by Judy Blume - Free Book Online Page B

“Enough is enough. She’s too young to understand. None of us can make sense of it—how can you expect a young girl to?”
    “Not by sweeping it under the rug and pretending it didn’t happen,” Henry said.
    “Since when are you the expert?” Rusty asked. “When you have a young, impressionable daughter we’ll discuss it.”
    Until then, Miri had never heard an angry word between Rusty and Henry. She couldn’t believe they were talking this way in front of her, as if she weren’t sitting right there. This was a first after a lifetime of silences, of secrets, of pretending everything was fine.
    Irene pushed her chair back from the table, signaling the end of this argument. “I’m going to check on Ben.”
    “Miri, don’t you have homework?” Rusty said.
    Oh, sure. Homework. The answer for everything.

Elizabeth Daily Post
    56 KILLED AS FLAMING PLANE CRUMPLES ,
FALLS INTO FROZEN RIVER
    By Henry Ammerman
DEC. 17—Elizabeth, long fearful because of its proximity to Newark Airport, gained a permanent listing in the annals of aviation tragedy at 3:09 o’clock yesterday afternoon when a two-engined non-scheduled airliner plummeted in flames into the east bank of the Elizabeth River, only seven minutes after its takeoff. All 52 passengers and the four crew died, the most tragic civil catastrophe in Elizabeth’s three centuries of existence.
Thousands in streets already flooded with holiday shoppers turned their eyes skyward to the thunderous roar of a low-flying plane in trouble. They gaped in horror as a thin streak of smoke turned to flame, and the plane struggled to return to the airport, before its right wing collapsed.
The plane hurtled earthward into the heart of the city like an angry, wounded bird. It sheared off part of an unoccupied house at 70 Westfield Ave., crashed into a brick warehouse of the Elizabethtown Water Company, and landed on its back in the frozen riverbed, a mass of twisted fiery wreckage.
It was one of the only open areas in a mile-square radius, perhaps a silent tribute to the deceased pilot’s skill.
    3

    Miri
    Miri sat on her bed reading the beginning of Henry’s front-page story, then had to lower her head to the floor. She couldn’t breathe,couldn’t remember how to take a breath. When she felt the blood rush back to her face she sat up and took a sip of water. Then she lay back against her pillows and thumbed through the paper until she came to her favorite section.
Debutante Judith Merck, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. George Merck of West Orange, a student at Sarah Lawrence College, will be presented tomorrow night at the Grosvenor Ball. After, Miss Merck will be heading anywhere there’s snow for some holiday skiing.
    She closed her eyes, picturing Miss Judith Merck in her white ball gown at the Grosvenor Ball, dancing the first dance with her father. She tried to imagine herself wearing a beautiful long white dress, dancing with her father, though she’d never seen a photo of him.
    She was glad she didn’t have her father’s last name. Monsky —ugh! No one ever said his name. She still wouldn’t know it if Henry hadn’t taken her to Spirito’s for a pizza last April, on the day President Truman had relieved General MacArthur of his command. The whole school had been called to the auditorium to listen to MacArthur’s speech. Old soldiers never die—they just fade away . Eleanor was allowed to cover the story in the school paper, because of the special assembly.
    She explained why President Truman had fired General MacArthur, had kicked him out of the military for insubordination after MacArthur voiced disagreement with his policies.
    Most kids dumped the paper in the trash, as usual. But Miri had read every word. She’d asked Uncle Henry about it. He’d been surprised but pleased by her interest. Between bites of pepperoni, he’d explained. “I want you to know the truth, Miri. Always.”
    So she’d gathered all her courage and asked him about her father, just