The Water and the Wild Read Online Free PDF

repay a favor. Lottie ducked down and frantically crammed herself into a forest of employees’ coats that hung in a wooden alcove by the door. Just as she had swatted a prickly scarf away from her face and hugged her knees up to her chest, the door swung open. Shouts from the pub swam in with the sweet, sickly smell of beer. She heard footsteps, followed by the scraping of chairs. Then there were voices. Mollie was the first to speak.
    â€œWell! She must’ve skipped out already. Poor girl. You kids have got a knack for getting scratched up tonight, haven’t you? Never rains, but it pours.”
    Lottie heard a dull thud and the sound of labored breathing.
    â€œUgh,” said Mollie. “He’s a wreck. Gang brawl, was it? Serves him right. Who lets you kids carry around switchblades, anyway?”
    â€œI wouldn’t know,” said a boy’s distracted voice. “Do you have any clean towels?”
    â€œIn the lower cupboard over there. I expect to get repaid for bloodied-up linens, though, got that? And this place better not look any worse for the wear. You’re lucky I’m feeling like such a humanitarian tonight. Be grateful.”
    â€œOh. Right! Yeah, sorry, I am.”
    There was the shuffling of feet, the creaking of door hinges, a momentary burst of pub shouts, and then nothing but the muffled sounds from inside the break room. By now, Lottie had worked up enough courage to peek through the folds of the coats. She immediately wished that she hadn’t. A body was sprawled out on the table in the middle of the room, and its bloody arm hung just a few feet from Lottie’s nose. Meanwhile, a boy was crouched by the cupboards, pulling out an armful of white towels. The body on the table coughed.
    â€œThanks, doctor,” said the voice of the body, and it sounded like it belonged to a boy no older than Lottie.
    Despite the phlegm and pain in the voice, Lottie could swear that the injured boy sounded like he was making a
joke
. Apparently she was right, because two laughs followed, one soft and wary, the other strangled. Lottie shirked back into the coats as the other boy passed by and turned on the tap.
    â€œI thought we were goners for sure,” he said. “Just think, a few seconds later, and we would’ve been trapped inside that tree for all eternity.”
    â€œI think,” said the voice from the table, “that was the general idea.”
    â€œYou mean, you don’t think it was an accident?”
    â€œI don’t know, but Father sure won’t.”
    â€œSo, you think it was worth it?” The faucet turned off, and the boy-doctor returned to the table.
    â€œShe’s safe. That’s what matters.”
    â€œAnd Ada can take care of the rest.”
    â€œIf anyone can, Ada can.”
    The boys laughed again. Then there was a sharp wheeze of breath, the kind Lottie had made growing upwhen Mrs. Yates had pitilessly cleaned up her scrapes with rubbing alcohol.
    â€œSorry, mate. I know it hurts.”
    â€œStop flavoring, Fife. You can just tell me how bad it is.”
    â€œYour arm’s pretty mangled, but nothing’s broken. It’ll look nasty more than anything else.”
    â€œRight.” A pause. “Thanks. I know you didn’t have to get yourself involved in this.”
    â€œDon’t be an idiot. Someone’s got to clean up after you. Now shut up. I’ve got to disinfect it, and all I’ve got is this stinging human stuff. Just remember, no touching. I don’t want any new tattoos tonight.”
    There was the sound of wet towel hitting skin, followed by a scream from the boy on the table. Lottie clutched her stomach, woozy from the smell of antiseptic and blood. The injured boy let out another shriek. Lottie felt herself getting sick again—horribly sick. She couldn’t stay crouched in the coat closet any longer. Anything, even the risk of getting caught as an eavesdropper, was