Read Online Tell Me by Joan Bauer - Free Book Online Page A

see, then they catch their prey.
    I close my eyes.
    Daphne says, “Like this?”
    â€œSmaller. More sinister.”
    A spider and a daisy.
    Daphne says they will put this out on the wires, and if we think of anything or want to change it, to give her a call. She makes copies of the sketches for us to take home.
    We walk outside, get in the car. I’m trying to remember every detail of life. It’s a blue Chevy with black seats, and a figure of a woman with children around her is hanging from the rearview mirror. The figure is carved from light-colored wood.
    Mim tells me, “When you’ve done all you can do, rest in that.”

Twelve
    We stop by Debbie’s Dollar Daze to buy more yellow scrunchies. All that Debbie has are the non-important colors.
    â€œThe shiny purple ones are nice,” she says. “We’ve got headbands . . .”
    â€œDo you have any more in the back?” Taylor asks.
    Debbie doesn’t want to go into the back, but I blurt out, “This is life and death! We need yellow scrunchies!”
    That gets her moving.
    Of course, the last time I was in here, I shouted that I needed to see the sheriff. She looks at me strangely.
    Taylor puts her hand on my shoulder. “Anna is just here visiting.”
    Debbie gives a quick nod, runs into the back.
    The number of people in town who don’t like me is growing.
    But Debbie comes back with three more packages, each with a white, black, and yellow scrunchie.
    Winnie, Mim, and Taylor are now wearing them as wrist bracelets.
    â€œYou might want to order more,” Taylor tells her. “These might catch on.”
    Mom has left four messages for me. She’s talked to Mim and told her in no uncertain terms that she wants me home.
    â€œAnna,” Mim says, “try to give your mind a rest if you can. That will help all kinds of things. You can talk to your mother in the morning.”
    It would be nice if my dad would call. We haven’t talked for over a week.
    I think of a poem by Robert Frost that Dad had in his classroom. . . . Here’s the part I remember:
    Â 
    The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
    But I have promises to keep,
    And miles to go before I sleep,
    And miles to go before I sleep.
    Â 
    Dad didn’t just teach math, he taught life.
    I write this in my new horse notebook:
    Â 
    To the girl with the baby animal eyes:
    Try to look out the window of the van as much as you can, and when you have to go to the bathroom, make sure lots of people see you.
    If you get a chance to run away, do it.
    You’re not invisible anymore, at least part of you isn’t.
    The police are looking for you, and I’m hoping to remember more so I can help.
    I won’t forget, I promise.
    I won’t let it go.
    Your friend forever,
    Anna McConnell
    Â 
    Okay, now I can sleep.
    But just a little.

Thirteen
    I walk to the barn. Taylor told me to meet her early.
    I’m glad to have something to do, something else to think about.
    I touch the yellow scrunchie on my right wrist and wonder how that girl is doing.
    I come close to the barn—it’s seven in the morning and the light seems to be telling me, slow down, don’t worry.
    I remember walking into the stable when I had my first riding lesson. I was so excited.
    Okay, this is my do-over. Although I’m not mentioning it to my mother.
    Taylor is drinking something from a cup with the words I’M A MIRACLE .
    I don’t feel like a miracle. I never once thought of myself that way.
    I get out my phone and send this to Lorenzo and Becca: I’m a miracle .
    Taylor doesn’t see me yet, but Zoe looks out. And I remember getting thrown like it was yesterday, but I can’t focus there.
    â€œHi, girl,” I say.
    Taylor smiles. “You look ready.”
    I nod.
    â€œI just want you to know that the first time I worked with Zoe, she stepped on me. That was the beginning of our relationship.”
    I