Bird Lake Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

response to the last question.
    â€œOh,” said his father, “I’ve got a present for you. A cell phone. I thought you could use it, you know, under the circumstances, because Mom and I . . .”
    Mitch listened intently, afraid he’d hear the words “are getting a divorce.” But the sentence was left unfinished. Nonetheless, one of those unspoken words formed in Mitch’s mind, each letter as big as a house and made of stone: D-I-V-O-R-C-E.
    â€œAnyway . . . you wanted a cell phone, right?”
    Not really . “Mmm-hmm,” Mitch murmured with tight lips, his voice rising in a tight, fake sort of way because he was trying to hide his sadness. Then his mouth fell open; he didn’t know what to say next.
    â€œWell, bud, I’ll see you later.” His father’s tone was hushed.
    â€œOkay. Bye.”
    â€œBye. I love you, Mitch.”
    Really? “Love you, too.” Come back. To stay .
    Mitch was reluctant to hang up, so one more time he said, “Bye.”
    â€œBye.”
    That was it.
    After the telephone call, Mitch shifted about moodily on the bed in the spare room, feeling sorry for himself. He’d missed the intruders’ homecoming. He knew this because his mother had poked her head into the room and said, “I think there’s a family staying in the house next door. They’re swimming right now. I saw a boy about your age. Maybe the two of you could play together. Did you see him?”
    â€œYeah, I saw him. And I also saw that he had a mother and a father,” Mitch had replied, staring at the ceiling with stony eyes. When he’d turned toward the doorway to catch her reaction and perhaps apologize, she’d already left.
    The weight of it all threatened to overwhelm him. He buried his face in his pillow, trying to screen out the world, but random thoughts and images swirled through his head. All the things he tried not to think about, were, of course, the things he did.
    His father: How would their dinner together be? Would the word divorce be mentioned? Or, if Mitch did everything right, could it be the first step toward getting their old life restored? What would it take to get his father to spend the night?
    His old house: What would happen to it ? Would all of them move back eventually? Would he and his mother move back before school started in the fall?
    The intruders: Had they seen the front porch? How had they reacted?
    His splinter: What if it was infected? What if it gave him some dread disease?
    The goggles: What should he do with them? He’d shoved them into one of the small zippered compartments in his backpack. He’d never stolen anything before; he vowed to give them back. But it would have to be done in a clever way, a way that would be useful, part of his plan.
    Thinking about stealing caused his mind to drift to a boy at his school. Ross Liscum. Ross had been a bother, like Mitch’s splinter, since Mitch was in kindergarten and Ross was a first grader. Ross was the kind of kid who cut in line, tripped people in the hallways, threw fists at sack lunches to crush them, cheated on tests, bragged repeatedly about his athletic abilities, and made venomous comments about other classmates’ appearances, which made no sense to Mitch because Ross had a slightly deformed ear that looked like a fortune cookie. Just the kind of thing Ross would taunt others about.
    Mitch had been Ross’s victim on occasion (“It’s Miss Sinclair!” Ross would say for no apparent reason), but not with the regularity that others suffered, thank goodness. Secretly, Mitch thought of him as Ross Lip Scum, but he’d never dare call him that.
    When Mitch complained about Ross to his parents, they’d always given him the “ignore him” lecture and reminded Mitch that Ross’s parents were divorced, as if this were reason enough to be a full-fledged jerk. For the moment, this comment shot to the