The Christmas Throwaway Read Online Free PDF

shook his head.
    "Kinda just need some help," he started. "I got a call out to St. Margaret's last night, someone spotted a kid hanging round the graveyard, and when I got there…" He paused. This whole Zach thing wasn't exactly official; he hadn't even reported what he had found for the
    administrative records. "There was this kid, like seventeen, scrawny, exhausted. I took him home with me, well, to Mom's."

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    "Do you need me to come over?" Melanie
    immediately asked, and Ben smiled. It was to his friend's credit that she didn't even stop to question why he would take a complete stranger into the family home. Added to that, it was Christmas day, she wasn't officially on call, and she was holding his godchild in her arms. He didn't think he could love her more.
    Mark on the other hand was frowning, clearly
    focusing on the stranger-in-your-home part. Ben could see that.
    "Maybe later, but at the moment he just seems exhausted and really damn hungry."
    "No signs of hypothermia?" Melanie asked, snapping into doctor mode, but all Ben could do was shrug and look sheepish. He wasn't even sure he was fully aware of the symptoms of hypothermia. Melanie continued, "Did you see any of the umbles? I mean stumbles, mumbles, fumbles, and grumbles. If he showed any signs of these, it could indicate the gradual reduction in coordination of muscles and movement, and a falling level of
    consciousness."
    "Is it just me or did you find that whole doctor list hot?" Mark said with a leer, but all Ben did was blink and shake his head.

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    "Umbles? No, nothing as serious as that. Maybe his coordination was a bit shot, but he was cold and tired, and he was eating Momma's soup like there was no tomorrow."
    Melanie nodded, putting a wriggling Annabelle
    down on the floor and straightening.
    "Well, I'm here if you need me. I mean, I need to go check on the Joneses a bit later anyway. Emma is due tomorrow, so I'll be over your way." Ben smiled thankfully, knowing he would feel better if Melanie could just check his young visitor over, if only by sight.
    There was another reason he had dropped in though, and it was more to do with the fact that Mark was freakishly tall than anything else.
    "One other thing though, I need your fugly sweater, man." Mark's eyes widened. The Christmas sweater was a legend. It was hand-knitted with great love by the formidable Mrs. Aniston, Mark's mom, throughout the year and wrapped with tender care for her son to open on Christmas day.
    "My sweater?" Ben almost snorted out loud at the look of complete indignation on Mark's face.
    "And some jeans man, if you can spare them." Mark blinked with a regular huh ? on his face. "He's tall, man,"
    Ben explained, waving his hand above his head in a gesture 43
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    of height, waiting for Mark to make the connection.
    It was Melanie that disappeared into the laundry
    room, coming out with two clean pairs of jeans, two freshly ironed shirts, and last year's fugly sweater. She handed that to Ben, and then crossed to the tree, rummaging under it for a few of the many gifts that were piled there. With an exclamation of success she gathered together packages and added them to Ben's arms.
    "This year's fugly sweater," she listed, "some smelly stuff, Christmas socks, and some Santa boxers." She looked up at Mark briefly, who wasn't that fazed by the fact his gifts were disappearing from under the tree.
    "Thank you, Mel." Ben pulled her into a clumsy one-handed hug, the clothes clutched close to him, and then he moved to the front door.
    "Take care, Ben." Mark knew his voice was full of questions and of warnings, but Ben clearly wasn't ready to answer them.
    "You coming over tomorrow?" his friend asked as he made to leave.
    "Wouldn't miss it, man," Mark answered, putting an arm around his wife as Ben took the step outside and pulled the door shut behind him.
    "Thanks, babe." Mel