Into the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Maybe you could see that he gets this, even somehow persuade him to actually read it.” The bus stopped. “Thank you, Boomer,” he said, getting off.
    “Anytime, Red,” said Mr. Sidney.
    Mr. Samuels had no hair at all. Did these old-timers feel awkward with their childhood names clinging to them? Ingrid had felt awkward with hers from the get-go, partly because of how it sounded, partly because it came from Ingrid Bergman, the impossibly beautiful actress in Casablanca , Mom’s favorite movie. Maybe Ingrid was the kind of name that got better with age. Nothing she could do about it anyway: Her all-out seventh-grade effort to make people call her Griddie had been shot down by everyone, even complete strangers.
     
    “What was that all about?” said Stacy when Ingrid went back and sat beside her.
    “Not sure,” Ingrid said. “What’s the Medal of Honor?”
    “That video game,” said Stacy. “Sean used to play it all the time.”
    “I’m a level-ten master,” Brucie called out from the back.
    “Zip it, guy,” said Mr. Sidney.

five
    T HE GINGERBREAD HOUSE stood deep in the woods. House, woods, and sky: all dark. Ingrid had no intention of going any closer, was not about to take even one more step. But there was nothing she could do about it. With a sickening shudder, the forest floor was suddenly on the move, like a conveyor belt, taking her faster and faster to the gingerbread house. A pair of yellow eyes appeared behind an upstairs window.
    “Ingrid! Wake up!”
    She opened her eyes. Her room was dark and shadowy. The bedside clock read 6:05, almost an hour before she had to get up for school. Dad stood in the doorway.
    “Where are those minutes?” he said.
    “Minutes?” Her voice was croaky. She cleared her throat, tried to clear her mind of forest-dream remnants. “What—”
    “That Grampy was supposed to sign,” Dad said, his tone sharpening. “Don’t tell me you forgot them.”
    Ingrid rubbed her eyes, all crusty. “I guess I must have, but—”
    “Damn it,” Dad said. “Get up, then. You’re coming with me.”
    “Where?” Ingrid said.
    “The farm,” Dad said. “You can run in and get them. I’ll drop you off at school.”
    “But—”
    “You heard me.”
    “Hey,” called Ty from his room across the hall. “Trying to get some sleep here, if that’s okay with you guys.”
     
    They rode in silence. Dark clouds sagged low in the sky, and something between rain and snow was falling in thick streaks. Sleet? Freezing rain? Was there a difference? Ingrid glanced at Dad, decided not to ask. He was far away. The windshield wipers went back and forth, back and forth, reminding her ofthis old movie she’d seen, featuring a metronome and someone locked in a closet. It got darker. All the cars had their headlights on. Staying in bed till noon sounded just about right.
    Dad pulled into Grampy’s long driveway, parked in front of the house. “Be quick,” he said.
    No smoke rose from the chimney. “What if he’s not up?” Ingrid said.
    “He’s up,” said Dad. At that moment his cell phone rang. “Hello,” he said. And then, “You’ve got the wrong number.” He clicked off.
    Ingrid got out of the car, knocked on Grampy’s door. After a moment or two it opened, and there was Grampy, dressed in canvas pants and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His feet were bare; Ingrid noticed how finely shaped they were, and how they didn’t seem old at all.
    “Hey, kid,” he said. “This is a surprise.” He looked past her, saw the car, rolled down his left sleeve, but not before Ingrid saw a Band-Aid on the inside of his elbow, partly covering a yellow bruise.
    “I forgot those minutes, Grampy,” she said.
    He looked vague. “Minutes?”
    “That you were supposed to sign.”
    “Paperwork,” Grampy said. “Had it up to here.”He went back into the house, soon returned with the envelope. Ingrid was sliding it into her pocket when she felt something else in there.