Read Online The Tramp (The Bound Chronicles #1) by Sarah Wathen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Wathen
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resort flanking the well-trailed, but still remote, Mount-Something–That-Allowed-Hunting. He had even convinced a bartender at the resort restaurant, eager to please visitors and make a good tip, to sell him a beer. It hadn’t been a hard sell.
That unsettling feeling he often sensed in Shirley Valley was absent on the other side of the gorge, and the country gardens at the resort were quiet in a peaceful, charming way. It was almost like an historical fiction novel that let him forget who he was or where he came from. Maybe he would go out there again soon; maybe he would just keep going, one day.
Not tonight.
That night, his mom’s vile boyfriend, Terry Finley might come over. Then again, since it had actually come to blows a couple nights before, maybe not. At seventeen, Sam was broad shouldered and muscular from hours of manual labor, and that helped discourage some of the creeps that wanted to hang around with his mom. Some guys got frustrated when he hung around, preferring to escape with her instead; but if Sam were home, guilt might keep her from disappearing for days. She wasn’t usually hard to find in a place as small as Shirley, but still.
Still. Sam let a shiver run up his spine and opened his eyes to look for landmarks. Before long he saw Witch’s Hat, the crag aptly named for its striking, villainous fairytale features, marking the entrance to a shadowy cleft in the mountainside. Set back from the road, hiding under ancient pines clinging to the precipitous slopes above, lie Southern Cove Mobile Home Village.
Home, sweet home —he’d have rather been anywhere else in the world. But that was where he got off.
Sam blew a kiss to the cows with a rueful smile. He landed with legs loose and springy to absorb the shock, jogging a few steps to avoid stumbling, and then tripped anyway. He rolled with his head tucked, then came to a huddled stop on two feet, with arms splayed for balance.
“Getting better,” he chuckled as he dusted off his jeans and exposed knees, and headed toward the lighted windows sprinkling the shady, breezeless cove. Not wanting to arouse suspicion in his jumpy neighbors, with whom he had little in common, Sam kept his head down as he walked. What was the point in making friends when his mom would probably want to move on soon, anyway?
He was relieved to see that his house looked deserted—the porch light turned out. Searching for the right house key in the dim light, he could feel someone approaching from behind and tensed.
“What’s up, man?” It was only his neighbor, Tyler, a scrawny kid maybe a year younger.
“Hey.”
“You just come back from town? Pick up a shipment?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll trade you for some ‘shine,” said Tyler.
“Eh.” Sam had tried Tyler’s moonshine once before and felt extremely sorry for that decision the next morning. Where the hell does he find that shit?
“I just got the new Resident Evil—you want to play some video games?”
“Maybe.” Sam didn’t mind hanging out with the guy, but his house sometimes reeked of cat piss. “I’m starving, let me get something to eat first.”
“Okay, just come knockin’, man.”
He waited for Tyler to disappear before teasing his front door open. He listened, barely daring to breathe. He hadn’t seen Terry’s truck, but he couldn’t be too careful. After a few seconds, his ears began to pick up the steady rumble of a news-broadcast and he recognized the blue, undulating glow of the television screen in the main room.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
He exhaled, switched on the kitchen light, and slid over to the refrigerator, hoping for something edible.
“Eureka.”
A delivery pizza box sat in glorious surprise inside. But, when he flipped open the lid to find a completely uneaten pie, he became suspicious. He put the pizza on the counter and crept over to the opening of the living room. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Mom was sprawled on the couch—alone, at least—with one leg
That unsettling feeling he often sensed in Shirley Valley was absent on the other side of the gorge, and the country gardens at the resort were quiet in a peaceful, charming way. It was almost like an historical fiction novel that let him forget who he was or where he came from. Maybe he would go out there again soon; maybe he would just keep going, one day.
Not tonight.
That night, his mom’s vile boyfriend, Terry Finley might come over. Then again, since it had actually come to blows a couple nights before, maybe not. At seventeen, Sam was broad shouldered and muscular from hours of manual labor, and that helped discourage some of the creeps that wanted to hang around with his mom. Some guys got frustrated when he hung around, preferring to escape with her instead; but if Sam were home, guilt might keep her from disappearing for days. She wasn’t usually hard to find in a place as small as Shirley, but still.
Still. Sam let a shiver run up his spine and opened his eyes to look for landmarks. Before long he saw Witch’s Hat, the crag aptly named for its striking, villainous fairytale features, marking the entrance to a shadowy cleft in the mountainside. Set back from the road, hiding under ancient pines clinging to the precipitous slopes above, lie Southern Cove Mobile Home Village.
Home, sweet home —he’d have rather been anywhere else in the world. But that was where he got off.
Sam blew a kiss to the cows with a rueful smile. He landed with legs loose and springy to absorb the shock, jogging a few steps to avoid stumbling, and then tripped anyway. He rolled with his head tucked, then came to a huddled stop on two feet, with arms splayed for balance.
“Getting better,” he chuckled as he dusted off his jeans and exposed knees, and headed toward the lighted windows sprinkling the shady, breezeless cove. Not wanting to arouse suspicion in his jumpy neighbors, with whom he had little in common, Sam kept his head down as he walked. What was the point in making friends when his mom would probably want to move on soon, anyway?
He was relieved to see that his house looked deserted—the porch light turned out. Searching for the right house key in the dim light, he could feel someone approaching from behind and tensed.
“What’s up, man?” It was only his neighbor, Tyler, a scrawny kid maybe a year younger.
“Hey.”
“You just come back from town? Pick up a shipment?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll trade you for some ‘shine,” said Tyler.
“Eh.” Sam had tried Tyler’s moonshine once before and felt extremely sorry for that decision the next morning. Where the hell does he find that shit?
“I just got the new Resident Evil—you want to play some video games?”
“Maybe.” Sam didn’t mind hanging out with the guy, but his house sometimes reeked of cat piss. “I’m starving, let me get something to eat first.”
“Okay, just come knockin’, man.”
He waited for Tyler to disappear before teasing his front door open. He listened, barely daring to breathe. He hadn’t seen Terry’s truck, but he couldn’t be too careful. After a few seconds, his ears began to pick up the steady rumble of a news-broadcast and he recognized the blue, undulating glow of the television screen in the main room.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
He exhaled, switched on the kitchen light, and slid over to the refrigerator, hoping for something edible.
“Eureka.”
A delivery pizza box sat in glorious surprise inside. But, when he flipped open the lid to find a completely uneaten pie, he became suspicious. He put the pizza on the counter and crept over to the opening of the living room. His eyes adjusted to the gloom. Mom was sprawled on the couch—alone, at least—with one leg
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