Sleeping Beauty Read Online Free PDF Page A

live or how I feel or whether I have friends or not; I wouldn’t care because I’d be too busy. And when I learned everything and got to be somebody, people would congratulate me and tell me how wonderful I am, and then I wouldn’t be mad at them anymore.”
    â€œMad at them,” Vince echoed. “Why are you mad at people?”
    She shrugged.
    â€œAnne,” Vince said softly. “Tell me. Tell me why you aren’t happy.”
    â€œI am happy,” Anne said defiantly.
    â€œNo, you’re not. Tell me about it. We’re friends, Anne; tell me.”
    She shrugged and started biting another fingernail. “I just don’t like a lot of people, so I get mad at them. I don’t want to be part of their silly groups; they scream and giggle and tell jokes about boys . . . it’s all so dumb. Who wants to be part of all that?”
    â€œAnd you think all that will be different when you learn hard, complicated things?”
    â€œSure it will. Because then I’ll be important, and I’ll find other important people and we’ll all be friends because . . . because I’ll be good to be with.”
    Vince rose and walked to her. He ran a finger lightly along her cheek. “You’re already important, little Anne, and very good to be with. You’re the best person to be with that I know.”
    The sun touched the horizon and slipped below it. The air was still warm, but the deep shadows made it seem cooler. Anne shivered.
    Vince moved closer and took her face between his hands. “Sweet little Anne. People should love you.” Anne stared athim. “And I will,” he said, and moved still closer to kiss her. His mouth covered hers and his tongue thrust inside, pushing Anne’s tongue back into her throat. It was terrifying, but Anne did not move or cry out; suddenly she was afraid of making him angry. He really cared about her. He loved her. He loved her enough to ask how she felt about things, and to listen when she answered. He loved her enough to kiss her. He said she was important. He said she was sweet.
    She wished he wouldn’t kiss her; she really just wanted to be held, the way she remembered her mother holding her, and her father, too, before her mother died. She shuddered and Vince put his arms around her, pulling her against him. It was as if he had read her mind. He held her so tightly it hurt, but she didn’t care. She liked it when he held her. She liked hearing his warm, deep voice say she was good. She wanted him to say it again, but he wouldn’t if he thought she was stupid and a baby, and she was sure that’s what he would think if she flinched from his tongue deep in her mouth. She had to be careful or he’d leave and never pay attention to her again, and she’d come to the clearing and be all alone and know she’d be that way forever.
    But what about Rita? Rita and Dora. Vince was kissing her, and he had a wife. And a daughter.
    It’s just a kiss. Her thoughts swirled like autumn leaves; they flew up and skittered along the surface of her mind, and she could not hold on to them. It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.
    Vince took his mouth from hers. He turned her sideways and with one hand clutching her buttocks and the other her shoulder, walked her to the grass at the side of the clearing and forced her to her knees.
    â€œNo! Uncle Vince—!” she cried, but he pushed her back until she lay beneath him.
    â€œVince!” she cried again. “I don’t want to! Vince, please, please don’t—!”
    â€œYou want to,” he said harshly. Kneeling over her, he gripped her wrists in one hand and with quick fingers liftedthe skirt of her sundress and pulled off her underpants. He kicked them aside.
    â€œNo, I don’t! I don’t! Vince, stop, please!”
    He sat back on her squirming legs and undid his belt. “You loved it when I