Read Online The Children of Fear by R.L. Stine - Free Book Online

family willing to adopt more than one child.”
    â€œI’m going to keep Corey and Leah together,” Luke vowed, more to himself than to Mary.
    â€œDo many children get adopted at each town?” Luke asked.
    â€œSometimes the little ones are lucky. They’re still cute, and women like to hold them. It’s the middle children, especially the girls, that have a hard time finding a home. Girls my age have little luck.” She sighed.
    â€œThey all look so sad,” Luke said, remembering their faces as they crawled into the boxcar.
    â€œIt hurts to get your hopes up at each town, only to discover no one wants you,” she replied.
    â€œHow can we make them want us?” Luke asked, determined to get Leah and Corey off the train as quickly as possible.
    Mary smiled. “Stand straight. Slick your hair down. Talk politely, and tell anyone who walks by that you love hard work.”
    Luke chuckled. “My hair might be a problem.” He ran his fingers through it. “I don’t remember the last time I cut it.”
    â€œIt looks nice,” Mary replied quietly.
    â€œYour hair looks like honey,” Luke said. He felt his face grow warm. He’d never said such a silly thing to a girl before.
    She released a soft laugh before covering her mouth. “Are you hungry too?” she asked him.
    He added his quiet laughter to hers, not wanting to wake anyone.
    â€œYes, I’m hungry too,” he told her, smiling into the darkness. “That’s probably why your hair made me think of honey. Your eyes remind me of blueberries.”
    He could see her fighting to hold in her laughter. It pleased him when he heard a tiny giggle escape. After his parents had died, he’d had little time to visit with his friends, and no time to talk with girls.
    â€œYour eyes remind me of chocolate pudding,” she said, then turned her face away.
    She’s shy, he thought. He wished he knew how to make her more comfortable around him.
    â€œMaybe after I’ve had breakfast in the morning, I’ll decide your hair is just yellow and your eyes are just blue.”
    She glanced at him. “Don’t count on it. The porridge they serve us at breakfast is awful. It’s all lumpy.”
    â€œMy mother used to make delicious porridge,” he said, leaning his head back against the wall. The motion of the train vibrated along his skull. “I used to eat four bowls every morning.”
    â€œWhat happened to your mother?” she asked. Concern filled her voice.
    â€œShe and my father were going to the Centennial Exposition. The wagon rolled over on them. Killed them both.” The memory made him shudder. He didn’t want to tell her how the horses had suddenly gone wild and bolted. He still could not believe that his father had lost control of the animals.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    I could talk with her all night, Luke thought. “What happened to your parents?” he asked gently, anticipating that hers had died as well.
    â€œThey both died of influenza,” she answered quietly. “Not long ago,” she added. Mary drew up her knees and covered her face with her hands. He could see her shoulders shaking.
    He felt sorry he had upset her. He remembered how hard it was the first few weeks after his parents had died. He kept expecting to see them, to hear their voices.
    Luke cleared his throat. “There’s a hole in the roof of the boxcar. I can see the stars.”
    She glanced up. In the moonlight, Luke could see where a tear had trailed down her cheek.
    â€œLet’s make a wish,” he suggested, hoping to distract her from her sad thoughts.
    She gave him a quivering smile. “I haven’t wished on a star since I was a child.”
    â€œThat’s too long,” he assured her. “Make a wish.”
    She sniffed and looked back up at the small bit of sky visible through the hole.
    â€œI hope you, your brother, and