Abomination Read Online Free Page B

might have delayed concussion or something, Father.’
    ‘And did he?’
    ‘No, Father.’
    ‘No.’ Father shakes his head. ‘Scott did not have delayed concussion, but your family had delayed dinner.’
    ‘I’m sorry, Father.’
    ‘So you have said, and I mean to make you a great deal sorrier presently. You will see to Abomination’s dinner, then go to your room. I will be up to correct you when your mother and I have broken bread.’
    Up to correct you . I don’t need to tell you what that means, do I? I wish somebody’d tell me something though: what’s the difference between what the Good Samaritan did for the man who fell among thieves, and what I did for Scott?

14. Martha
     
    When Father left my room, locking the door to keep me from reaching food in the night, I got my postcards out. It helps to look at them when I’ve been corrected, because they’re from other places. Places Father’s never seen and never will. Places I’ll go as soon as I’m old enough, like Mary. She was here, under his thumb, and it must’ve seemed to her it would never end but it did. The rod didn’t keep her here. It drove her away, that and the cold Sunday mornings and the good plain food.
    Birmingham’s my favourite. It shows a sort of fountain with a stone lady lying in it, but it’s not the picture I like. It’s what Mary wrote on the back. She was writing to me and I was only seven so she didn’t do joined-up writing. That’s how I know she’s nice. It says:
Dearest Marfa (her pet name for me – I couldn’t pronounce th when I was learning to talk)
     
I hope you’re OK, as I am. Birmingham is big and full of interesting things, like this fountain. I have found a friend. She’s called Annette. I wish you could meet her, she’s so funny. You won’t forget your big sister will you, poppet? She loves and misses you every day. I’ll write again soon. Be a good girl .
     
Mary
     
    You won’t forget your big sister . Always makes me cry, that bit. As if I would. Jezebel , Father calls her, when he mentions her at all, but she’s got something he’ll never have. She’s got my love.
    I hope it reaches her. My love, I mean. I send it to her when I’m in bed. I don’t know where she is because she never puts her address, so I send it through the air like a radio station. I picture it, spreading through the darkness like the ripples when a pebble plops into a pond. It goes in every direction so some of it’s bound to find her, isn’t it?

15. Scott
     
    I do like Martha, though. I’ve no idea why. She’s definitely weird – the kids are right about that but what I think is, just because someone’s weird isn’t a good reason to pick on them. I mean, you get to know a weird person – really know them – and I bet you’ll find there’s a reason why they’re the way they are, and it won’t be their fault.
    I was thinking about all this stuff in bed Tuesday night, because I couldn’t sleep. I kept wondering what Martha’s folks said to her when she got home. Did she get in trouble? They’d looked seriously strange walking down Wentworth Road, and that’s what I mean – maybe Martha just takes after them.
    I was right about Wednesday morning. They did give us a hard time. Me, anyway. I walked through the gateway and the same bunch was waiting. They went straight into the chant. I’d expected something of the sort and walked on, not looking at them. They followed me across the yard going, Snotty Scotty, snotty Scotty, brain is dead and clothes are grotty . Other kids joined in. When I still ignored them, Simon and Gordon started pushing me in the back. They were trying to make me fight, but I’m not daft. You can’t fight five people. I escaped by going inside. You can go in to use the toilet, but if a bunch go in together the teachers chuck ’em out.
    I hung about the cloakroom till the buzzer went. Martha kept looking at me as old Wheelwright marked the register. I’d a couple of plasters on my