Read Online The Seventh Day by Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tara Brown writing as A.E. Watson
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loft. I hated this annoying set of
stairs when I was a kid—flimsy and cheap. Now I thank the gods my dad
never made proper ones.
We crawl into bed, sharing a room with two
double beds. Furgus sleeps with me and Joey, completely
covering the bottom half of the bed .
I look at us all snuggled into bed, the
girls with their stuffies, and smile. “We made it here, we made it through a
day. We’re doing better than a lot of people.” I give Joey a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for bringing Songa.”
She smiles. “You would have been sad
without her.” She passes Furgus his monkey—a stuffed toy he has had since
birth that he never ruined. It’s the only toy he has always treated with kid
gloves. He drags Monkey into his embrace, laying his head on the stuffed
animal’s chest and closes his eyes.
When I blow out the candle, I feel for my
phone in my pocket and switch it on. The signal is gone still. I flip through
the photos. Mom on the phone, heating up dinner. Me and Tanya at the concert. Me and Tanya
on the bus after the concert. Me and my friend Jamie
at the school dance. Me and Sasha in a tree. Me
in front of the new truck Dad bought. Joey and Julia on the couch playing with
their iPads. Dad trying to teach us to fly-fish, what a fail that was. I smile,
even here in the lonely dark, and remember how sucky we were. The next picture
is of me with my cool pale-blue bow and quiver set. I thought I was so badass with it—until I shot myself in the foot
anyway . . .
I flick off the phone to preserve battery
life and lie back.
In the dark I can hear the moment the girls
are asleep and I take the couple minutes I think I have before sleep takes me
too and whisper, “God, if you can hear me, I need you. I don’t have a plan. I
don’t know what to do. If you could send me a sign, or help us out in some way,
that would be awesome. I got these girls, and I don’t know what to do.” I
listen to the night around me. “I’m scared. I know I’ve never prayed before,
but they’re little. Can you just help us? My dad is our best bet. Please get
him here. We can’t be alone. We’re kids.”
I close my eyes but my brain is still going
over the details and questions.
Is it
this bad everywhere or only in Laurel?
Is it
the fresh air—the cold fresh air mixing with the virus and making them
last longer than they should?
What
is the head jerk?
Is
the cabin safe? Did I make the right choice coming here? Did I have a choice?
Am I going to get us all killed?
The worst question I have running through
my head is— what if we are alone?
What if our parents are dead and it’s the four of us?
What
do four little girls know about staying alive?
I clutch Songa and think about the things I
have going for me, instead of against. I am on a possibly deserted mountaintop,
it’s cold here, my cabin is double-locked, and the stairs to the high loft are
up here with me.
I have a feeling I am one of the safest
people within a hundred miles. Maybe a million miles.
Chapter Four
Day Three
The giggles are getting to be more
frequent.
Julia holds up a picture. “See, mine looks
more like him.” The picture is of a tabby cat. Lissie giggles. “No, that looks
like a seal.”
I smile from the pot of Kraft Mac and
Cheese I’m stirring. Joey has her nose wrinkled up as she hurries to finish
hers. She does everything slower than her friends. She has a subtle learning
disability with reading and writing. So school things have always been harder
for her, but in everything else, she is faster. She runs faster, pushes her
body harder, and takes challenges with ease. She smiles wide, still wrinkling
her freckled nose. “Mine is better.”
The other two do something that makes tears
fill my eyes. Her picture is by far the worst but they both nod. “It’s awesome,
Jo.”
She looks at theirs and rolls her blue-gray
eyes. “Whatever. Yours are way better.” She slaps the picture down. The three
of them are like a set of
stairs when I was a kid—flimsy and cheap. Now I thank the gods my dad
never made proper ones.
We crawl into bed, sharing a room with two
double beds. Furgus sleeps with me and Joey, completely
covering the bottom half of the bed .
I look at us all snuggled into bed, the
girls with their stuffies, and smile. “We made it here, we made it through a
day. We’re doing better than a lot of people.” I give Joey a kiss on the cheek.
“Thanks for bringing Songa.”
She smiles. “You would have been sad
without her.” She passes Furgus his monkey—a stuffed toy he has had since
birth that he never ruined. It’s the only toy he has always treated with kid
gloves. He drags Monkey into his embrace, laying his head on the stuffed
animal’s chest and closes his eyes.
When I blow out the candle, I feel for my
phone in my pocket and switch it on. The signal is gone still. I flip through
the photos. Mom on the phone, heating up dinner. Me and Tanya at the concert. Me and Tanya
on the bus after the concert. Me and my friend Jamie
at the school dance. Me and Sasha in a tree. Me
in front of the new truck Dad bought. Joey and Julia on the couch playing with
their iPads. Dad trying to teach us to fly-fish, what a fail that was. I smile,
even here in the lonely dark, and remember how sucky we were. The next picture
is of me with my cool pale-blue bow and quiver set. I thought I was so badass with it—until I shot myself in the foot
anyway . . .
I flick off the phone to preserve battery
life and lie back.
In the dark I can hear the moment the girls
are asleep and I take the couple minutes I think I have before sleep takes me
too and whisper, “God, if you can hear me, I need you. I don’t have a plan. I
don’t know what to do. If you could send me a sign, or help us out in some way,
that would be awesome. I got these girls, and I don’t know what to do.” I
listen to the night around me. “I’m scared. I know I’ve never prayed before,
but they’re little. Can you just help us? My dad is our best bet. Please get
him here. We can’t be alone. We’re kids.”
I close my eyes but my brain is still going
over the details and questions.
Is it
this bad everywhere or only in Laurel?
Is it
the fresh air—the cold fresh air mixing with the virus and making them
last longer than they should?
What
is the head jerk?
Is
the cabin safe? Did I make the right choice coming here? Did I have a choice?
Am I going to get us all killed?
The worst question I have running through
my head is— what if we are alone?
What if our parents are dead and it’s the four of us?
What
do four little girls know about staying alive?
I clutch Songa and think about the things I
have going for me, instead of against. I am on a possibly deserted mountaintop,
it’s cold here, my cabin is double-locked, and the stairs to the high loft are
up here with me.
I have a feeling I am one of the safest
people within a hundred miles. Maybe a million miles.
Chapter Four
Day Three
The giggles are getting to be more
frequent.
Julia holds up a picture. “See, mine looks
more like him.” The picture is of a tabby cat. Lissie giggles. “No, that looks
like a seal.”
I smile from the pot of Kraft Mac and
Cheese I’m stirring. Joey has her nose wrinkled up as she hurries to finish
hers. She does everything slower than her friends. She has a subtle learning
disability with reading and writing. So school things have always been harder
for her, but in everything else, she is faster. She runs faster, pushes her
body harder, and takes challenges with ease. She smiles wide, still wrinkling
her freckled nose. “Mine is better.”
The other two do something that makes tears
fill my eyes. Her picture is by far the worst but they both nod. “It’s awesome,
Jo.”
She looks at theirs and rolls her blue-gray
eyes. “Whatever. Yours are way better.” She slaps the picture down. The three
of them are like a set of
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