Read Online Throwaway Girl by Kristine Scarrow - Free Book Online Page B

home,” I reply. Mrs. Assaly is a great cook, but mealtimes with Luke and Shelley are my favourite. We sit around the table, clasp our hands, and say a prayer. The table is always set so nicely, the platters of steaming food artfully arranged. Shelley always makes more than enough food. She laughs at how I can’t seem to get enough, how I still rave about her cooking at each meal. “You are my number one fan, Bernice,” she laughs. During the meal, I love how they ask me about my day, how they seem so genuinely interested. I feel so safe and cared for. We’ve turned into a real family.
    I write until my hand starts to get sore. By now the sun has set and the air has gotten cooler. I rub my arms vigorously with my hands, hoping to warm my skin. My stomach is growling and I realize that I’m hungrier than I thought. I stand up and brush the fallen leaves and dirt from my pants. Mrs. Assaly is sitting on her patio with a cup of tea and what looks like an album.
    â€œMay I come over?” I ask her. She waves me over. I push myself up in the air and over the fence and land with a thump on her side of the yard. She chuckles while I pick myself off of the ground. “Sorry … I guess I should have used the gate,” I say sheepishly.
    â€œI would have done the same thing at your age.” Mrs. Assaly laughs. I take a seat beside her at the patio table.
    â€œWhatcha doing?” I ask. Mrs. Assaly rubs the front of the album she’s holding, a forlorn smile on her face.
    â€œYou were right, Bernice,” she says, opening the album. Expecting to see photographs, my eyes light up in surprise when I see that the album contains dozens of drawings carefully posted on the pages.
    â€œAre these yours?” I ask. Mrs. Assaly places the album in front of me so that I can have a better look. I carefully turn the pages, staring at the gorgeous images. Most of them are of people of all ages and sizes. The people look so real, it’s hard to imagine that they were drawn.
    Mrs. Assaly smiles nervously. “It’s been quite a few years since I’ve last looked at these,” she admits.
    â€œOh, Mrs. Assaly, you must continue drawing! These are incredible!” I breathe. How could someone with so much talent give this up? Mrs. Assaly looks closely at me before reaching for the album.
    â€œYou may have changed my mind, Bernice. I think you’ve inspired me.” She flips through the pages herself, lost in thought. My heart swells with pride knowing that Mrs. Assaly may draw again and that I had something to do with it. If she’s as passionate about drawing as I am about writing, how in the world could she possibly give it up?
    The wind starts to pick up and the leaves start to lift and swirl above the ground. It’s starting to get dark. Although Mrs. Assaly and I are having a wonderful time together, I’m anxious for Luke and Shelley to get back. They’ll be so excited to hear about Mrs. Assaly and her drawings. When the pages of her album keep getting blown open by the wind, Mrs. Assaly suggests we go inside the house and wait. I help her stack the patio chairs and carry in the album for her. We sit in front of the TV and she brings me some cookies and milk. “I’m sure you’re hungry dear,” she says. “It might be awhile before you have dinner.” I am thankful for the snack. The growling in my stomach is getting louder and it’s starting to make me anxious. Feeling this hungry brings back too many memories. It’s as though the emptiness of my stomach has paralleled the emptiness inside my heart throughout the years. But it’s different now , I try to assure myself. You have a loving family, a safe home, and lots of food to eat. It’ll be okay and you’ll eat soon.
    Mrs. Assaly keeps glancing at the clock, watching vigilantly out the window every time she sees a pair of headlights making their way down the street,