Part 33 (1/2)

She didn't know which way he'd taken her through the woods but that didn't matter. She was young and he was not. She had fear and need on her side and he did not. She'd find the road or she'd find a place to hide but either way he was not going to take her. Not again.

Not Marge Bernhardt.

She had too much to live for.

Ignoring pain and cold and blood she sprinted free into the dense forest night.

Thirty.

Visitation, Part Four

It wasn't as bad as he thought it would be in some ways.

But then in some other ways, once he knew it was real and really happening to him, it was worse.

The shelter wasn't a kind of prison the way he'd imagined it. It was a normal-looking house though old and bigger than any he'd seen and it sat on a quiet, tree-lined street somewhere up into the hills away from town, with a big lawn and trees in back so that if it weren't for the high chain-link fence you'd think just anybody could live here-not just a bunch of messed-up kids waiting for something to happen to them. Inside there was a big comfortable living room on the first floor with a fireplace they said n.o.body used anymore, a kitchen and dining room with a huge table, and upstairs were the bedrooms, four of them, six boys to a room a.s.signed to bunk beds.

His roommates were all pretty much his age except Willie something, who was just a little kid and had the bunk down under him and David Fosch, who was maybe two years older. So that was okay.

David seemed to think he was pretty tough but he hadn't started pus.h.i.+ng anybody around or anything.

He was worried about tonight, though.

His first night here.

What if he messed his pyjamas again?

It wasn't happening every night, thank G.o.d, not since he hadn't been seeing his dad so much but it still was happening often enough and what if he s.h.i.+t his pants in the middle of the night and everybody smelled it and somebody woke up and said, jesus what's that?

Everybody'd know.

And he wondered if David Fosch would just act tough after that.

Mrs. Strawn and Mr. McKenzie said that they all had ch.o.r.es to do every day and his that afternoon was peeling carrots and potatoes for supper. They'd shown him around and got him unpacked and settled in to his room and then as soon as his mom left with Mr. Sansom, Mrs. Strawn handed him the peeler.

He didn't mind. It was something to do.

Though he wasn't real good at it.

He kept remembering his mom crying as she left and trying to smile, Mr. Sansom's hand on her arm leading her out the door. And thinking about that made him want to cry because why was she crying if she wasn't scared for him again?

I told, he thought.

I told on my dad. Is that why this is happening?

He kept worrying about tonight. About going to bed and sleeping and doing ... whatever.

He kept wondering what was going to happen to him next-how long he was really going to be here, whether he was going to get picked on eventually by some kid or maybe a whole bunch of kids and when it was going to happen. It almost had to happen.

They said it was only for a day or two.

He wasn't dumb. He knew a lot could happen in a day or two.

A lot of things he didn't want to happen.

So he wasn't too great at the peeling. He kept gouging holes out of the potatoes trying to get at the dark spots and breaking off the thin tops of carrots.

They smelled good, though. The carrots and potatoes did. They smelled like home and his own kitchen.

When? he thought. When will they get me out of here?

He listened to some of the other kids playing out back on the lawn outside through the kitchen door, the screams and the laughing. At least he knew you could laugh here.

Somebody out there could. Maybe that meant he could too. Eventually.

There were still a couple of hours before supper time. He wondered if, when he finished, he'd have the guts to go out and join in.

”Robert?”

Mrs. Strawn was standing in the doorway. There was gray in her hair and she wore thick black-rimmed gla.s.ses and her hips and belly were too big for the tight skirt she was wearing but his first feeling about her was that Mrs. Strawn was okay, that she was pretty nice.

”You have a visitor,” she said. ”Go rinse off your hands and you can finish up later.”

He did as she said and stepped outside, following her through the hall into the living room.

He sat in an armchair with his back to them as they walked in so that Robert could see only his head and shoulders, but he knew who it was way before he turned and when he did turn his father was smiling.

That was wrong. He felt a wave of terror. Why was he smiling?

Didn't he know?

His father stood up.

”Hi, Robert,” he said.

”Hi.” It was all he could do to manage to get the word out.

”I'm sorry, Mr. Danse,” said Mrs. Strawn. ”But you know I have to stay here with you.”

”I understand. That's fine. I just wanted to stop by and say h.e.l.lo and see how Robert was doing.” He smiled again, bigger this time. ”This is really quite a nice place you have here, Mrs. Strawn. You sure wouldn't know there were ... how many boys living here?”

”Twenty-one at the moment. We have three beds open right now.”