Chosen Read Online Free PDF Page B

there. The book had opened to the family-tree page. In the weird back-slanted left-handed writing that I easily recognized as belonging to the step-loser, my mom’s name LINDA HEFFER had been penned in. A line had been drawn attaching it to JOHN HEFFER , with the date of their marriage off to the side. Underneath their names, written in as if we had been born to them, were the names of my brother, my sister, and me.
    Okay, my bio dad, Paul Montgomery, had left us when I was just a kid and had promptly disappeared from the face of the earth. Once in a while a pathetically small child-support check would arrive from him with no return address, but other thanthose rare instances, he hadn’t been part of our lives in upward of ten years. Yes, he was a crappy dad. But he was my dad, and John Heffer, who seriously hated my guts, was not.
    I looked up from the bogus family tree and into my mom’s eyes. My voice sounded surprisingly steady, calm even, but inside I was a big mess of emotions. “What were you thinking when you decided on this for my birthday present?”
    Mom seemed annoyed at my question. “We were thinking that you’d like to know that you’re still part of this family.”
    â€œBut I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time before I was Marked. You know that and I know that and John knows that.”
    â€œYour father most certainly does not—”
    I held up my hand to cut her off. “No! John Heffer is not my father. He’s your husband, and that’s all he is. Your choice—not mine. That’s all he’s ever been.” The wound that had been bleeding inside me from the time my mother had walked up broke open and hemorrhaged anger throughout my body. “Here’s the deal, Mom. When you bought my present you were supposed to be picking something you thought I might actually like, not something your husband wanted crammed down my throat.”
    â€œYou don’t know what you’re talking about, young lady,” my mother said. Then she glared at Grandma. “She gets this attitude from you.”
    My grandma raised one silver brow at her daughter and said, “Thank you, Linda, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
    â€œWhere is he?” I asked my mom.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œJohn. Where is he? You didn’t come here for me. You camehere because he wanted you to make me feel bad, and that’s not something he’d miss. So where is he?”
    â€œI don’t know what you mean.” Her eyes flicked around guiltily, and I knew I’d guessed right.
    I stood up and called down the sidewalk, “John! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
    Sure enough, a man detached himself from one of the stand-up tables that were situated at the opposite end of the sidewalk near the Starbucks entrance. I studied him as he walked up to us, trying to understand what my mother had ever seen in him. He was a totally unspectacular guy. Average height—dark, graying hair—weak chin—narrow shoulders—skinny legs. It wasn’t till you looked in his eyes that you saw anything unusual, and then what was reveled was an unusual absence of warmth. I’d always thought it was weird that such a cold, soulless guy would constantly spout religion.
    He reached our table and started to open his mouth, but before he could speak I tossed my “gift” at him.
    â€œKeep it. It’s not my family and it’s not my beliefs,” I said, looking him squarely in the eyes.
    â€œSo you’re choosing evil and darkness,” he said.
    â€œNo. I’m choosing a loving goddess who has Marked me as her own and gifted me with special powers. I choose a different way than you. That’s all there is to it.”
    â€œAs I said, you choose evil.” He rested his hand on my mom’s shoulder, like she needed his support to be able to sit there. Mom covered his hand with hers