The Fog Read Online Free PDF Page B

on this year.
    “Your rooms are a bit bare,” Mrs. Shevvington said. “But you may decorate any way you wish.” She stayed at the bottom while the children circled the long, climbing stairs.
    At the second floor a white-banistered balcony ran all the way around the open stairs, and numbered doors opened off it. One door was open. Inside, a white nubbly rug lay beside a shiny brass bed, and a puffy pink comforter matched balloon curtains. A delicate nightstand, white with gold trim, held a tiny hobnail glass lamp and a pretty little antique clock.
    Let my room be like that! Christina thought.
    The gentle curve of the stairs became tighter. The carpet stopped. The stairs were plain wood, and scuffing feet had worn hollows in the treads. The banisters needed dusting; the little knobs and whorls of the posts were black with grime.
    The room that Anya and Christina were to share was at the top of the stairs. The door opened right onto the stairs. Christina thought, If we miss the bathroom at night, we’ll fall all the way. Break every bone until we hit bottom.
    Anya and Christina’s room had a bare wood floor, white walls, no curtains, just paper shades yellow with age. Twin beds without headboards wore plain white sheets and old mustard-colored blankets tucked in hard, like a punishment. Unmatched chests of drawers stood next to each other. Under the eaves, two closets were lit by bare bulbs on pull strings.
    Christina wanted to cry.
    Anya took a deep breath. “Better than where I stayed before,” she said, sliding her trunk with her knee toward the further bed.
    “ Better? ” said Christina, shocked.
    “I didn’t tell you on the island, because you’d have told your parents and worried them. They don’t like us here. The people in this town. They’re against us. You’ll see. That’s why we’re living with the Shevvingtons. Mr. Shevvington is so kind! He’s so thoughtful. He knew how hard it was for Michael and Benj and me last year, separated, living in ugly places with mean people because nobody else would take us. Mr. Shevvington is the only one on our side, Christina. He’s all we have.”
    “Side?” Christina repeated.
    “It’s them against us,” Anya said. Anya chose a chest of drawers. She opened her trunk and took out lilac-scented, flowered liner paper for the drawers. Anya was so well organized she had packed her scissors right next to it, and calmly she began cutting lengths of paper and laying them in her drawers. A faint scent of lilac filled the room.
    Christina could not bear to start unpacking in this gloomy attic. She crossed the balcony to check out the boys’ room. It too was bare as bones. But the boys had had no dreams of lace and satin. They flung their stuff around, bounced on the beds, and seemed pleased. The boys’ walls were the same blackish green as the outside shutters. “My Marilyn Monroe poster will look really great up here,” Michael said to Christina. Then he shouted down the stairwell, “Can we scotch tape things right to the walls, Mrs. Shevvington?”
    “Of course not,” muttered Christina. “In a house where you can’t run down the stairs and can’t enter the living room and can’t eat in the dining room, you think you’re going to be allowed to put scotch tape on walls?”
    Christina leaned over the balcony rail. Mrs. Shevvington was standing at the bottom. “Certainly,” she called.
    Christina went back into their bedroom.
    “Here,” said Anya. “I cut you drawer liners, too.” Christina had never lined a drawer in her life. At least there was one pretty thing in here. Too bad it had to lie hidden by her clothing.
    A single window filled the only dormer, making a tiny alcove. Far below, the surf boomed, and the spray tossed. Christina examined the view, down Breakneck Hill, over the rooftops, and beyond to the hills. She picked out the garage where her father’s truck and her mother’s car were locked up. “Where did you board last year,