The Fog Read Online Free PDF

all summer.” With his fist he tilted Christina’s chin up and kissed her forehead. She felt that if she were to ask for the silk hanky he would give it to her, that he would give her anything, and therefore she could not bear to ask him for a single thing. His height was perfect, the way he loomed over her was protection, his shadow was warmth.
    “Christina,” he said, “we don’t want to worry our parents, now, do we? There are going to be adjustments we’ll all have to make, learning how to live under one roof and get along.”
    He said he knew he could trust Christina never to be difficult or cause scenes. He said a child who loved her parents would write only cheerful letters, make only happy phone calls, because love meant never worrying your mother and father.
    His smile moved across all four of the children, binding them, requiring smiles in return, like signatures on a contract, so they could never forget, never be bad. They would always adjust.
    He said, “Christina, I can see already that you’re going to be the spokeswoman of the group. I’m very impressed. A girl of your age, and already so articulate.”
    She felt as warm as if she had been toasting in front of a fire. Christina resolved never to tell her parents if she had any problems. A girl who was in junior high was old enough to take care of herself and protect her parents from worry.
    Mr. Shevvington laughed and turned to his wife. “Candy, we’re going to enjoy Christina, aren’t we?” he said.
    Candy? Her name is Candy? Christina thought. Impossible.
    “Anya,” Mr. Shevvington said now. He kissed her in just the same way, fist under Anya’s delicate chin, his lips planted on her forehead. “You are looking as beautiful as last year. We expect great things of you during your senior year, Anya.” He surveyed her with the attention of a student learning the details of a piece of art.
    Anya smiled up into Mr. Shevvington’s eyes. “I won’t let you down,” she said, her voice full of emotion. “I’ll do anything you say.”
    The principal smiled. It was a flat, bright smile, like the glassy sea on the day they got the posters. “I know,” he said.
    The Shevvingtons are sticky, Christina thought. Like the back of a stamp. I’m afraid of them.
    Mrs. Shevvington’s arm went around Christina’s shoulder, and it tightened in what might have been a hug, or the first move of a strangle.
    The principal spoke to Benj, saying he knew this school year was going to be so wonderful that Benj would never want to quit. Benj looked bored, but he didn’t bother to argue, and just nodded.
    Mr. Shevvington shook hands with Michael, saying that as a ninth-grader Michael was eligible for Junior Varsity and, with Michael on the teams, the school would have a splendid athletic year.
    Anya turned her face toward the principal like a sunflower to the sky.
    “I’m sorry I can’t have lunch with you,” Mr. Shevvington said, his handsome features drooping with distress. Anya’s face mirrored his. “But I must run back to the high school to deal with some annoying odds and ends before we open in the morning.” His face re-lit. “First day of class! You kids pretty excited?”
    The boys remained bored.
    Anya nodded joyfully. A puppy in a litter, thought Christina, wagging a tail for him.
    “Upstairs,” said Mrs. Shevvington, steering them through the halls. Christina was slow to obey. Mrs. Shevvington pushed her. It was like being touched by a jellyfish. Flesh soft and flaccid, as if there were no bones beneath the white surface.
    The Jaye brothers were already racing upstairs. “Third floor,” said Mrs. Shevvington. “Mr. Shevvington and I and the guests are on the second floor.”
    The boys’ feet pounded on thick vermilion carpet up to the second floor and then sounded completely different — heavier, drummier.
    There’s no carpet on our stairs, thought Christina, and it seemed a metaphor for the year to come — there would be no carpet