Thirteenth Child Read Online Free

handed all the gear to him.
    “You going out tonight?” The words were forced—strained. The boy didn’t seem to notice.
    “Sure. I’ll bring the worms in tomorrow, inthe morning, early. That okay?” But he made no move to go. He looked toward the living-room door thoughtfully.
    Trying not to be obvious about it, Kate moved toward the drawer where the knives were kept. There was a good big butcher knife in there ….
    Idiot, she told herself. As if you could really use it. This isn’t a Stephanie story, this is for real.
    He finally turned to go. Kate let out a deep breath, then tensed again as he stopped and pivoted back toward her.
    “By the way,” he said. “My name’s Mike. Mike Bridges.” He paused. “What’s yours?” he asked, when Kate didn’t speak.
    “Kate Halston.”
    “Nice name. You get in trouble about that food the other day?”
    “No more than usual,” Kate answered. With an effort, she made her voice sound casual. “I leave for school about eight. Can you bring the worms before then?”
    “Sure. No problem. See you.” He turned again and this time did leave.
    Kate heard the outside door slam. Like a spring suddenly released, she raced through, locked it, and reversed the OPEN sign. Ten o’clock or not, this place was closed. She stood for a moment, willing her breathing to get back to normal and her heart to slow down, then she went back and gathered up her homework; there was no way she could concentrate on itnow. She’d get up early and finish it in the morning.
    Would she have used the butcher knife? If he
was
the guy who had held up the drugstore, and if he
had
gone for her in the kitchen—would she have had the courage? Stephanie wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment. If he had made a grab for her and she had picked up the knife and plunged it into him, then what? Would he have fallen down and died right away, or would he have had time to strangle her first? In books people collapsed as soon as they were stabbed, but if she had missed everything vital and just wounded him …?
    And if she did kill him—would the police believe it was in self-defense? That he’d threatened her before? They’d ask why she hadn’t reported it. She could see it now—in jail with prostitutes, with murderers. Other murderers, she reminded herself. She would be one of them. If no one believed her—how old would she be before they let her out? She could just see herself, gaunt and hollow-cheeked, thirty years old at least, emerging from the doors of a dark and forbidding prison.
    The gates clanged shut behind her. There wasn’t a soul to greet her. Her parents had both died while she was locked up. No one else cared. A life ruined
…. A
future of despair….
    She turned off the snack-bar lights, went through into the back, and climbed the stairs toher room. The television yammered on. She dumped the usual pile of books on her bed off onto the floor and lay down, fully clothed, her mind running around like a hamster in an exercise wheel.

three
    Mike turned up the next morning at a quarter to eight, bucket of worms in hand. Kate saw him through the screen door just before he knocked.
    “Who the hell’s that, this early in the morning?” her father growled.
    “It’s a boy I hired to pick worms for us, Dad,” Kate answered. “Johnny quit. Remember?”
    “Johnny quit? When? I don’t recall that.” For a moment Steve seemed confused. He looked, mouth slightly open and eyes vacant, first at her and then at Mike standing in the doorway. He hadn’t shaved or combed his hair, and his flannelette shirt, too heavy by far in this heat, was dirty and buttoned crookedly. Kate felt embarrassmentwash over her as she saw Mike looking at him.
    “Got a bucketful,” Mike said. His voice was offhand, but his eyes were wary.
    “How much you paying this kid?” The confusion was gone, the belligerence back.
    Kate could see Mike begin to bristle.
    “Now, Steve,” Angie began.
    “Shut your mouth, Angie.