Read Online Lost Boys by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Orson Scott Card
Tags: Fiction, General, Family, Horror, SF, Occult fiction, supernatural, Families, Moving; Household, north carolina, Missing Children, Domestic fiction; American, Occult fiction; American, Moving; Household - North Carolina, Family - North Carolina
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Mormon, which means you won't be getting some tuna casserole and a jello salad, it'll be an oven roast and baked potatoes and gravy, and I already bought enough for your whole crew so don't make it go to waste, just say yes and show up at six."
That was that. Jenny finished the box, called her kids, plunged out the door, and the kids straggled along behind her. DeAnne felt invigorated by Jenny's visit. Even better, she felt at home, because she knew somebody now, she had a friend.
She looked at her watch. It was two-thirteen. She was sup posed to be at school to pick Stevie up in two minutes.
She bustled into the bedroom and dragged the kids out of bed-Robbie was actually asleep, today of all days- made them carry their shoes and socks out to the car and managed to get to that parking lot on the top of the bluff overlooking the school by twenty after. There were still a billion cars and parents there, or anyway more than the parking lot was designed to handle, and tons of children around-but no Stevie. He must have come up the hill and looked around and then, following her instructions, headed back down to wait for her in the principal's office.
She managed to get both of Elizabeth's shoes on her at the same time, and Robbie got his own on with the velcro straps fastened down-thank heaven for velcro. It was almost two-thirty when she finally herded the children into the front of the school. The last of the buses was just pulling away. Stevie was sitting in Dr.
Mariner's office. The second he saw her, he was on his feet and heading out the door.
"Just a moment, Mrs. Fletcher," said the secretary.
DeAnne turned back to face her.
"If you aren't able to pick up your child on time, may I suggest that you have him ride the bus? Or arrange for the after-school program?"
"I'll be on time from now on," said DeAnne. "Or we'll set him up for the bus."
"Because this room is not a holding area for children, it's a working office," said the secretary.
"Yes, I'm sorry," said DeAnne. "It won't happen again."
"We like children very much here," said the secretary, "but we must reserve this area for adult business, and we appreciate it when our parents are thoughtful enough not to-"
"Yes," said DeAnne, "I can promise you that the only way I'll be late to pick him up again is if I'm dead.
Thank you very much." Seething inside, she left the office, Elizabeth on her hip and Robbie in tow. Stevie was waiting at the front door of the school.
"I wasn't very late," said DeAnne. "But I thought that maybe your class hadn't gotten out yet, so I waited at the top of the hill."
Stevie nodded, saying nothing. As soon as she caught up with him he walked briskly on ahead, leading the way to the stairs up the hill.
Robbie broke free of DeAnne's grip and caught up with Stevie, but his relentless conversation couldn't penetrate Stevie's silence. He must be really angry with me, thought DeAnne. Usually Robbie could pull him out of a sulk in thirty seconds flat.
When they got to the car, DeAnne apologized again for being late, but Stevie said nothing, just got into the front passenger seat while she was belting the kids into their seats in back. "Is Stevie mad at me?" whispered Robbie at the top of his voice.
"I think he's mad at me," said DeAnne. "Don't worry."
She got into the car and backed out of the parking place, navigated a narrow road among a small stand of trees, and finally pulled out on a main road. Only then could she glance down at Stevie. "Please don't be mad at me, Stevie. It'll never happen again."
He shook his head and a silver tear flew from his eye, catching a glint of sunlight before it disappeared onto the floor. He wasn't sulking, he was crying.
She reached out and caught his left hand, held it. "Oh, Stevie, what's wrong, honey? Was it really so bad?"
Again he shook his head; he didn't want to talk about it yet. But he didn't take his hand away, either. So he didn't hate her for being late, and when he was able to he'd
That was that. Jenny finished the box, called her kids, plunged out the door, and the kids straggled along behind her. DeAnne felt invigorated by Jenny's visit. Even better, she felt at home, because she knew somebody now, she had a friend.
She looked at her watch. It was two-thirteen. She was sup posed to be at school to pick Stevie up in two minutes.
She bustled into the bedroom and dragged the kids out of bed-Robbie was actually asleep, today of all days- made them carry their shoes and socks out to the car and managed to get to that parking lot on the top of the bluff overlooking the school by twenty after. There were still a billion cars and parents there, or anyway more than the parking lot was designed to handle, and tons of children around-but no Stevie. He must have come up the hill and looked around and then, following her instructions, headed back down to wait for her in the principal's office.
She managed to get both of Elizabeth's shoes on her at the same time, and Robbie got his own on with the velcro straps fastened down-thank heaven for velcro. It was almost two-thirty when she finally herded the children into the front of the school. The last of the buses was just pulling away. Stevie was sitting in Dr.
Mariner's office. The second he saw her, he was on his feet and heading out the door.
"Just a moment, Mrs. Fletcher," said the secretary.
DeAnne turned back to face her.
"If you aren't able to pick up your child on time, may I suggest that you have him ride the bus? Or arrange for the after-school program?"
"I'll be on time from now on," said DeAnne. "Or we'll set him up for the bus."
"Because this room is not a holding area for children, it's a working office," said the secretary.
"Yes, I'm sorry," said DeAnne. "It won't happen again."
"We like children very much here," said the secretary, "but we must reserve this area for adult business, and we appreciate it when our parents are thoughtful enough not to-"
"Yes," said DeAnne, "I can promise you that the only way I'll be late to pick him up again is if I'm dead.
Thank you very much." Seething inside, she left the office, Elizabeth on her hip and Robbie in tow. Stevie was waiting at the front door of the school.
"I wasn't very late," said DeAnne. "But I thought that maybe your class hadn't gotten out yet, so I waited at the top of the hill."
Stevie nodded, saying nothing. As soon as she caught up with him he walked briskly on ahead, leading the way to the stairs up the hill.
Robbie broke free of DeAnne's grip and caught up with Stevie, but his relentless conversation couldn't penetrate Stevie's silence. He must be really angry with me, thought DeAnne. Usually Robbie could pull him out of a sulk in thirty seconds flat.
When they got to the car, DeAnne apologized again for being late, but Stevie said nothing, just got into the front passenger seat while she was belting the kids into their seats in back. "Is Stevie mad at me?" whispered Robbie at the top of his voice.
"I think he's mad at me," said DeAnne. "Don't worry."
She got into the car and backed out of the parking place, navigated a narrow road among a small stand of trees, and finally pulled out on a main road. Only then could she glance down at Stevie. "Please don't be mad at me, Stevie. It'll never happen again."
He shook his head and a silver tear flew from his eye, catching a glint of sunlight before it disappeared onto the floor. He wasn't sulking, he was crying.
She reached out and caught his left hand, held it. "Oh, Stevie, what's wrong, honey? Was it really so bad?"
Again he shook his head; he didn't want to talk about it yet. But he didn't take his hand away, either. So he didn't hate her for being late, and when he was able to he'd
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