Runt Read Online Free Page B

Ethan opened his eyes wide to take in any light and turned his head away from his pillow to hear better.
    â€œThey’ll be fine, Benjamin,” his mother said.
    How does she know? Ethan thought.
    â€œHow do you know?” Benjamin asked his mother. “This is a hurricane . And they are an endangered species. There’s only a hundred of them left. That sounds like a lot, but it’s not.”
    Jeez.
    â€œI’m sure they are used to this weather if they’ve been here for five hundred years.”
    â€œNot each horse. Each horse hasn’t been here for five hundred years. Just the herd.”
    â€œThen they’re pretty strong and they’ll be fine.”
    â€œBut how do you know ?”
    â€œIt’s survival of the fittest, sweetie. It’s nature’s way.”
    Ethan heard her kiss him. She said good night to the rest of them, the light from the bathroom momentarily cutting her body in two when she stood up, then she slipped out the door.
    Ethan fell asleep thinking about the horses, as the rain pounded the house all night.

NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE
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    Freida knew Maggie wouldn’t vote for her poetry anthology cover and that Maggie would somehow be able to get the whole class to vote for someone she wanted to have win. That someone would, of course, be Larissa Peterson.
    She knew it, even as she sat at her dining room table at home and worked on her design. Lots of people can draw really well, Maggie thought. Even Larissa. The key to being an artist is to be different, do something in a new way, with an original voice. Like they were always saying on American Idol : Make it your own.
    Freida had a drawer in the kitchen that held all her art supplies, scissors, tape, fimo clay, paper, glue, ribbons,glitter, paints and brushes, stapler, hole punch, rubber stamps, markers, colored pencils, charcoal pencils, gesso board, an X-Acto knife that her mother didn’t know was there. And on the outside of the drawer she had taped a sign: DO NOT OPEN .
    It was open now and all the found objects Freida had been collecting were spread out on the table. Something to represent everyone in the class. A blue feather for Elizabeth’s blue eyes. Half of an old lace from a basketball sneaker for Matthew. The torn cover of a fashion magazine for Zoe.
    She carefully took apart one of her dad’s old watches and separated the tiniest metal pieces on the board to represent time, the time they had spent together, in light and in dark. She had the wrapper to Kyle’s favorite candy bar, a piece of the Nigerian flag because Assumpta’s mother had been an African princess. For Ethan she found an actual strip of used film since he was so into photography now.
    Only for Maggie she drew. It took most of the evening. She drew what Aristophanes described as the first humans, combined as one powerful being that spun on four legs like a wheel. Then she carefully glued all the other pieces over it, so only if you looked very carefully could you see what lay underneath.
    â€œOh my goodness, that’s incredible.” Freida’s mother walked into the dining room. “I wondered what you were doing in here so long.”
    Freida held it up. The name of the anthology—when the class chose it—would go right in the center. She left a space so that nothing would be completely covered, but nothing would stand out more than anything else.
    â€œFreida, it’s lovely. When you stand back”—her mother took a few steps back—“it just looks like one colorful piece, but up close you see all the details. Is it for a special project?”
    Freida looked at the board, her design, the work she put into it. It would be too hard to duplicate anyway. They would have to photograph it at a high resolution and reproduce it in three, if not four, colors. It would be too expensive. And besides, Larissa would win. Maggie would make sure of that.
    â€œNo,” Freida answered.