Never Never Read Online Free PDF Page A

the stairs, our ears are assaulted by a short burst of a scream. Charlie comes to a sudden halt and I bump into the back of her. The scream belongs to a woman standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
    Her eyes are wide, darting from me to Charlie, back and forth.
    She’s clutching her heart, exhaling with relief.
    She’s not from any of the photographs. She’s plump and older, maybe in her sixties. She’s wearing an apron that reads, “I put the ‘hor’ in Hors d’oeuvres.”
    Her hair is pulled back, but she brushes away loose, grey strands as she blows out a calming breath. “Jesus, Silas! You scared me half to death!” She spins and heads into the kitchen. “You two better get back to school before your father finds out. I’m not lying for you.”
    Charlie is still frozen in front of me, so I place a hand against her lower back and nudge her forward. She glances at me over her shoulder. “Do you know…”
    I shake my head, cutting off her question. She’s about to ask me if I know the woman in the kitchen. The answer is no. I don’t know her , I don’t know Charlie , I don’t know the family in the photos.
    What I do know is the camera in my hands. I look down at it, wondering how I can remember everything there is to know about operating this camera, but I can’t remember how I learned any of those things. I know how to adjust the ISO. I know how to adjust shutter speed to give a waterfall the appearance of a soft stream, or make each individual drop of water stand on its own. This camera has the ability to put the smallest detail in focus, like the curve of Charlie’s hand, or the eyelashes lining her eyes, while everything else about her becomes a blur. I know that I somehow know the ins and outs of this camera better than I know what my own little brother’s voice should sound like.
    I wrap the strap around my neck and allow the camera to dangle against my chest as I follow Charlie toward the kitchen. She’s walking with purpose. So far, I’ve concluded that everything she does has a purpose. She wastes nothing. Every step she takes appears to be planned out before she takes it. Every word she says is necessary. Whenever her eyes land on something, she focuses on it with all of her senses, as though her eyes alone could determine how something tastes, smells, sounds and feels. And she only looks at things when there’s a reason for it. Forget the floors, the curtains, the photographs in the hall that don’t have my face in them. She doesn’t waste time on things that aren’t of use to her.
    Which is why I follow her when she walks into the kitchen. I’m not sure what her purpose is right now. It’s either to find out more information from the housekeeper or she’s on the hunt for food.
    Charlie claims a seat at the massive bar and pulls out the chair next to her and pats it without looking up at me. I take the seat and set my camera down in front of me. She drops her backpack onto the counter and begins to unzip it. “Ezra, I’m starving. Is there anything to eat?”
    My entire body swivels toward Charlie’s on the stool, but it feels like my stomach is somewhere on the floor beneath me. How does she know her name?
    Charlie glances at me with a quick shake of her head. “Calm down,” she hisses. “It’s written right there.” She points at a note—a shopping list—lying in front of us. It’s a pink stationary pad, personalized, with kittens lining the bottom of the page. At the top of the personalized stationary it reads, “Things Ezra needs right meow.”
    The woman closes a cabinet and faces Charlie. “Did you work up an appetite while you were upstairs? Because in case you weren’t aware, they serve lunch at the school you should both be attending right now.”
    “ You mean right meow,” I say without thinking. Charlie spatters laughter, and then I’m laughing too. And it feels like someone finally let air into the room. Ezra, less amused, rolls her eyes. It makes me