The Second Evil Read Online Free PDF

and bent down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. After Bobbi’s death, he and Corky had become friends. Corky found that he was someone she could talk to, about her sister, about her feelings of grief, about her fears. After a while they had become more than friends.
    A tall, athletic-looking boy with an open, friendly face, Chip was wearing a heavy wool plaid sweater, all greens and blues, which made him look big and broad shouldered. His thick brown hair was unbrushed as usual.
    â€œSo the hand is better?” he asked Corky.
    â€œDon’t mind me. I’m just leaving,” Kimmy interrupted, her voice dripping with bitterness.
    â€œOh, hi, Kimmy,” Chip said, trying to sound casual. He didn’t turn to her. He didn’t want to see the disapproval on her face.
    â€œThanks for coming,” Corky told Kimmy, standing up. “And thanks for bringing my homework.”
    â€œSee you Monday,” Kimmy said. With a toss of her black crimped hair, she strode quickly from the room.
    As soon as she was gone, Chip stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Corky’s shoulders, drawing her into a hug.
    â€œOw. Be careful. My hand!” she exclaimed.
    â€œHey, what are you two doing?” a voice shouted from the bedroom doorway.
    They both looked around to see Sean, hands on hips, staring suspiciously at them.
    â€œWe’re not
doing
anything,” Corky said defensively.
    Sean glared at her. “I thought you said you couldn’t wrestle. You were wrestling with
him.”
He pointed accusingly at Chip.
    â€œWe weren’t wrestling,” Corky said, laughing. “Now get lost.”
    â€œMake me.” Sean’s standard reply.
    â€œGo on. Beat it,” Corky insisted.
    Sean put his tongue between his lips and made a rude sound. Another of his standard replies.
    Chip laughed.
    Corky elbowed Chip in the ribs. “Don’t encourage him,” she chided. She glared at her brother. “Go on. Get lost.”
    â€œOkay,” he said, pouting. “I’m going.” Sean started out of the room, but turned at the doorway. “But no wrestling, you hear?”
    He disappeared, and Corky heard him clomping back down the stairs.
    â€œHe’s funny,” Chip said, still chuckling.
    â€œWho needs funny?” Corky asked dryly. She dropped back onto the edge of the bed.
    Chip sat down beside her. “So the hand—it’s really better?”
    â€œYeah. It’s still pretty tender. You have no idea how hard it is to dress yourself with one hand!” She laughed, a forced laugh. “I’m going back to school on Monday,” she told him. “It’s been a long week. A long week.”
    He started to say something, but the phone on the night table rang. Corky sprang up to answer it.
    â€œOh. Hi. Yeah. Can I call you back later?” she said, holding the receiver in her right hand. “Chip just arrived. Okay. Bye.”
    She hung up the phone and, catching a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror, ran her uninjured hand through her blond hair, smoothing it back.
    â€œWho was that?” Chip asked, lying back on the quilted bedspread, resting his head on his hands.
    â€œDebra,” she replied. “She calls me every afternoon now. Ever since I burned my hand and she ran next door to get my parents, I think she feels responsible for me or something.”
    â€œIs she still insisting that the evil spirit made you burn yourself?” Chip asked, frowning.
    Corky crossed to the window and looked down on the backyard. The late-afternoon sun had lowered itself behind the trees, making shadows stretch all across the leaf-covered lawn.
    â€œDon’t make fun of Debra,” she said in a low voice.
    â€œHey, I’m sorry,” Chip replied quickly. “It’s just that she’s gone weird or something. People accidentally burn themselves all the time, Corky. Your righthand slipped. The water poured