Dark Hope Read Online Free PDF Page B

carefully prepared for me. By the time the day ended, I was exhausted from having to explain myself to the endless parade of teachers who also had apparently never heard of me. In one class, there wasn’t even a desk for me; I’d had to sit on the radiator up against the wall, and I nearly burned myself.
    Everywhere I went, I could feel the blatant stares of my curious classmates. I smiled politely at their questions, giving the most minimal answers while I died inside from mortification and wished a hole would open in the floor and swallow me up. I’d almost relished my escape to the bus, hoping to forget my woes in a good book, when someone plopped down uncomfortably close to me.
    “New girl! What’cha reading?” Before I could even look up, grubby hands snatched away my book.
    It was the same obnoxious boy. He grinned maliciously at me and tossed the book over his shoulder toward the back of the bus. “How was your first day at school?” he asked with mock sincerity. Before I could come up with a snappy comeback, he rumpled my hair like I was a kindergartner and leapt out of my seat to join his laughing friends.
    I shrank into my seat and felt my hair, comforting myself withthe security of the scarf wrapped around my neck and steeling myself for the ride home.
    I’d barely walked through the door after escaping the bus when there was a knock at the door. I peeked out and saw a short, trim woman with perfectly coifed blonde hair wearing a tracksuit and an apron. She held a covered tray and was rocking impatiently, a fake smile spread across her face.
    Mrs. Bibeau, I realized, remembering my mother’s note. The neighbor down the street whom Mom had asked to check in on me.
    I swung the door open, doing my best to paste a matching smile on my face.
    “You must be Hope,” Mrs. Bibeau declared, stepping through the door uninvited. “Your mother felt so horrible about having to go on that business trip. I told her not to worry, that I’d be happy to come on over and check on you,” she continued, her voice honeyed with a drawl I didn’t quite recognize. “I had six children of my own, you know, and we had to move five times as they grew up, so I know what it’s like. I thought you might like a little snack after such a big day, so I brought you my famous deviled eggs and pineapple sandwiches.” She whipped the tea towel off the tray to reveal a stack big enough for an army. “Why don’t we go sit down in the front room?”
    Without waiting for me to answer, she steered me into the formal living room and sat us down on the sofa. I could tell my mom didn’t use this room very much. The rest of the house was so neat and organized that it looked like it came out of a magazine, like no one really lived in it. But this room held my mom’s entire “overflow.” I saw Mrs. Bibeau take a mental note of the abandoned stack of Zappos and Amazon boxes, the pile of clothes set aside for charity, and the scattered piano books that surrounded Mom’s old upright.
    “Mom mentioned you’d be over,” I said politely.
    “Oh, it’s no trouble. I just couldn’t stand the thought of your mother worrying.” She made a small
tsk
sound as she brought her attention back to me. “Why she keeps up that crazy schedule of hers, I’ll never know. I remember when you were just a baby and she’d come home at all hours of the night. I thought she was going to drop dead one day, I truly did. Go on now,” she said without stopping for a breath, “have a sandwich.”
    I realized with a jolt that Mrs. Bibeau had known us before my kidnapping. Before my parents split up. Suddenly on my guard, I picked up one of the dainty sandwiches and nibbled at it.
    Mrs. Bibeau looked at me with curiosity. “We haven’t seen your father in such a long time. Tell me, how is he doing these days?”
    I took my time chewing, trying to think of the right thing to say and trying to get over the odd taste of pineapple with cream cheese.
    “Okay, I