A Map of the Known World Read Online Free PDF

looking tired and downcast.
    My mom used to look pretty young—younger than most of the other kids’ mothers, at any rate—for her age with her short, light-brown hair and once-bright hazel eyes. But the dark, puffy circles beneath them cast a shadow over her face. Now she looks old and tired beyond her years.
    “Art class seems cool,” I add, feeling sorry for her. If only there was something I could say that would make her feel better, less worried about me falling into an abyss, which would pull her back from her own black hole. There’s no way I’m telling her about Damian.
    “That’s nice,” she murmurs, her voice, her gaze far away. Where does she go when she grows distant like this? Is she thinking of Nate? Of how our family used to be? Is she traveling through time? Or does she get caught in some quicksand pit of despair?
    “Well, what’s for dinner?” I ask, trying to stir her, bring her back to the present.
    “Meat loaf,” my mom replies absently, then she sort of shakes herself and sets about making the preparations.
    “Can I help?” I offer.
    “No, it’s okay. Go do your homework.”
    “Um, Mom, could I ask you something?” I begin.
    “Sure, what is it?” she answers, coming back to me.
    “There’s this thing, the LGH Bonfire. They have it every year. It’s an official school thing, like a pep rally, only it’s at night. Could I go? Mom? I’d go with Rachel, and it’d be reallysafe.” I know I am talking way too fast, but I don’t know how else to ask this. Just bringing it up feels like an act of contrition. If I seem normal, maybe she’ll feel better.
    “Oh. I—I don’t know.”
    “Please, Mom? You can’t—I—It’s a school thing. Teachers will be there, and tons of kids. It’ll be safe. I promise.” I think about how I don’t even want to go, but as I speak, I realize this is a battle I have to win. For both our sakes.
    “But you’ll be roaming around at night, and I know how these things are—I remember—” Her voice breaks. But she clears her throat and presses on. “There will be drinking there. And I don’t want you out on the roads at night.”
    “Mom, I can’t drive, remember? Can’t I go if you drive me? Or Rachel’s mom?” I can see that she is considering this.
    “Well…” She drifts away again.
    “Mom?” I try. “Mom!”
    “All right.” She snaps back to life. “You can go. But I’ll drive you there, and pick you up at nine thirty, no later.”
    “Mom, it only starts at eight. Can’t you pick me up at ten thirty?” I plead.
    “Ten o’clock. No later, Cora. I mean it. If you’re not in my car by ten, I’ll come and get you,” she warns.
    “Fine!” I snarl, contrition and guilt and concern to the wind. I stomp upstairs to call Rachel and wait for the awkward dinner that is bound to follow.

Chapter Three
    T he air is thick with falling ash, black-and-gray snow. As the sun slowly sinks, the sky turns as orange as the bonfire itself. All around, kids, their faces painted red and black with the school initials, whoop and dance around the fire. Voices rise in a crescendo, chanting, “LGH! LGH! LGH!”
    Rachel and I arrived early, and until more people came, we hovered several feet away from the pyramid of sticks, looking on as a teacher, Mr. Cross, flicked match after match, trying to start the fire. He kneaded his brow with soot-stained fingers and wiped away the sweat. Finally the match caught, and the bits of grass and paper lit, and the flames grew and billowed. We watched as students trickled onto the field, and dusk fell, bringing with it the chirping song of crickets and the blinking flickers of fireflies. Cliques seem to gather their members, the way a magnet will draw filings of iron. Soccer guys find soccer guys, drama kids find drama kids, and even though I don’t know all of these people, each group is pretty muchdistinguishable on sight. The football players shuffle their feet and stand in a crooked line, uniform in