Turnabout Read Online Free PDF

the Burnham-Toddy-Smythe-Wallaces!” the man said. “We have over seven million dollars in assets!”
    “Oh, brother,” Melly muttered. She zapped the Burnham-Toddy-Smythe-Wallaces and tried another choice. Two more beaming faces appeared on the screen.
    “I’m Louis!”
    “I’m Rachel!”
    “We believe in the fellowship of humankind, and we believe it is our duty to raise a child to respect himself in the godhood of the world—”
    Melly scrambled to get rid of Rachel and Louis as quickly as she could.
    Sixty families later she was sitting with her face buried in her hands, the computer screen swimming with antique-style screen-saving fish, when Anny Beth strolled into the room.
    “Hi,” Anny Beth said. “Found Ozzie and Harriet yet?” It was a reference to an ancient TV show, one that had been on in their first lives. Neither of them could remember that, of course, but there had been reruns at the agency.
    “Ozzie and Harriet died a hundred years ago,” Melly moaned. “At this point I’d take Al and Peg Bundy over anyone in there.” She pointed to the computer screen.
    “ Married . . . with Children, ” Anny Beth said. “Cool. I thought I was the only one who watched that historical garbage. Can I be the wisecracking, dim-witted sexpot daughter?”
    “Be my guest,” Melly said. And then she burst into tears.
    “Hey, hey,” Anny Beth said. She patted Melly’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll find someone.”
    “I don’t know if I’m crying for me”—Melly sniffed—“or the world. How can any of those people think they deserve a child?”
    “They’re desperate,” Anny Beth said. “Desperate people always get weird. Don’t forget that. Andpeople who don’t have kids yet have no clue what it’s really like—remember?”
    “I don’t remember having children anymore,” Melly said stiffly.
    “Oh, right. I was the one who got pregnant at fifteen. Anyhow, are you convinced now that this is crazy? Why don’t you come down and have lunch with me? I’ve got an hour before my next class. And don’t you have to baby-sit this afternoon?”
    Melly nodded. “But I’m not giving up. Maybe the answer is to find someone we already know, someone around here. The Rodneys are okay.” They were the family she baby-sat for. They lived across the street.
    “You’d trust them?” Anny Beth gave her a hard look.
    Melly shrugged. “I don’t know. If I got to know them better I might.”
    “You think the agency would let you tell them?”
    “They couldn’t really stop me, could they?” Melly asked.
    Anny Beth grinned. “Now you sound like me!”
    Melly blew her nose and reached to shut down the computer. Just then the computer announced, “You have mail!” and the screen-saving fish melted into an icon of a revolving letter.
    “Stupid junk mail,” Melly said. She clicked the letter open, then reached for the delete button. “All those stupid ads—”
    “Wait!” Anny Beth had already read the message over Melly’s shoulder.
    Melly looked at the screen and instantly froze. The words glowed in terrifying green:
    “Seeking information about Amelia Lenore Hazelwood, born Amelia Lenore Hibbard, April 21, 1900, in KY, possibly died December 15, 2000, in OH.”
    “Oh, no,” Melly breathed.

March 26, 2001
    One of the men saw it on TV first. Mr. Johnson started pounding on the nurse call button and the volume control button at the same time, and screaming out what everyone later figured out was, “One of us! One of us!”
    The nurse arrived in time only to hear, “—the woman carried no identification. Police are searching missing persons reports. Anyone with information please call the number at the bottom of the screen.” But, like Mr. Johnson, the nurse got a clear glimpse of the face on the screen: It was definitely Mrs. Swanson.
    By the next news cycle a half an hour later everyone was assembled in the meeting room, staring at the four TVs the nurses had wheeled in. Amelia figured