Read Online The Children by Ann Leary - Free Book Online Page B

This time, I had just pedaled out of the main gate when he drove past. He pulled over and I rode eagerly up to his window.
    â€œHey,” I said, staring off down the road. It was cold that night and the words floated from my lips in little white puffs.
    â€œHey,” he said. “Well, get in.”
    After I climbed inside the truck, he turned to me and said, “Do you know there are maniacs driving around the countryside looking for girls like you?”
    I had been blowing on my hands to warm them. I didn’t know what to say, so I just shrugged.
    â€œI’m not kidding.”
    â€œWell, then, I’m glad you stopped. I don’t want to be attacked by a maniac.”
    Everett started driving. “I should tell Whit. I should tell Whit what you’re up to, before something bad happens.”
    We drove on in silence. His truck was old and had one of those bench seats in front. He turned on the radio, then dropped his hand onto the seat next to me. It was dark. I never would have had the courage if it wasn’t so late and so dark, but I moved my hand over on the seat and touched his hand with my pinkie. I barely grazed it. I just wanted to touch him. He drove on. I moved my hand just a little bit closer, just so it rested against his.
    Everett stomped on the brake and I was hurled against the dashboard.
    â€œWould you put your fucking seat belt on?” he shouted. Then: “What are you, fifteen years old? Sixteen?”
    I was crying. He had scared me. “I’m seventeen,” I said.
    â€œYou’re not seventeen.”
    I was sixteen, but I didn’t say anything.
    â€œWhat are you doing down there at Holden? Fooling around in the dorms with the guys? Huh?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBullshit.”
    â€œJust let me out,” I said.
    â€œPut your seat belt on,” he grumbled. “There’s something really the matter with you,” Everett said finally. “You and your sister both.”
    â€œWe’re just bored,” I whispered.
    â€œAre you crying?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œStop crying.”
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œI can make you laugh.”
    â€œNo you can’t,” I said, recalling our childhood games. Everett, Sally, Spin, and I used to play a game where we’d sit and stare into the eyes of one of the others. The first person to smile lost. Sally always won.
    I felt him looking at me. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye and then it was hard not to smile.
    â€œI saw you smiling,” he said.
    â€œI wasn’t,” I said.
    â€œI can make you,” he said. “I can make you smile.”
    â€œOkay. Try,” I said, scowling with all my might.
    That night was our first together. I snuck over to his place when I saw his bedroom light go out. I tapped on his window. He let me in.

 
    SIX
    Spin and Laurel came to the lake every afternoon that first week. Sally was in the city, but she e-mailed constantly, wanting to know what I had found out about Laurel.
    â€œShe’s stopped posting on Facebook,” Sally said. “She stopped blogging, too.”
    â€œI think she’s respecting our privacy,” I said. “Spin’s privacy. You know, she’s not nearly as braggy as she seemed on her blog. She’s interested in others. I have a feeling she’s a good writer.”
    â€œBased on what?”
    â€œShe likes to observe people. They say that’s what makes a writer great, her curiosity about others.”
    â€œI’ve never heard anybody say that,” Sally said.
    â€œIt’s just a known fact,” I said, annoyed. Sally thinks she knows everything.
    â€œSome people are just nosy,” she said.
    Whatever.
    Spin was busy that week. It wasn’t just his duties on campus with the remaining students. He had his work for the Lake Marinac Task Force—the group devoted to keeping our lake healthy and clean.
    Joan, Sally, and I are content to