Wreath Read Online Free Page A

brought a calendar. “A fresh start,” she scrawled, her hand shaking so hard the writing was almost illegible.
    She flipped through the lined pages for the thousandth time. On the first page, she had written the word
CONFIDENTIAL
in matter-of-fact capital letters. On the second page, she had used big, loopy, bubble-shaped words:
Wreath Wisteria Willis! Plans, Goals, and Dreams! Get Ready, World!
    She had felt full of hope when she started writing in the notebook, but now the words seemed silly. She looked back at the pages labeled
WHAT TO DO
. She had made note after note, most entries updated and expanded. She had written about the town of Landry and the abandoned junkyard where she would live. She had even sketched the way she wanted her future room to look, copying ideas from design magazines.
    Her main list was basic:
    Choose a place to live. (Done!)
Do research. (See notes.)

Travel to destination. (Walk? How far? How long?)
Set up home. (Supplies?)

Buy CHEAP food. (Don’t spend much money!!!!!)
Scope out high school. (How to enroll?)
Get a job????? Where??? (Make list of skills.)
Go to college
.
Make lots of money!!!!!$$$$$
    And, today, her latest entry:
    Avoid notice!
    She glanced at the list of supplies she would require, studied her list of mean and interfering people who might decide they knew what was best for her, read over a short list of job skills.
    Exhausted, she daydreamed about the books she wanted to read and the places she planned to travel, starting with New Orleans and ending with Nova Scotia, a place she had read about in Louisiana history in eighth grade, and Prince Edward Island, where one of her favorite books was set.
    As Wreath started to close the little notebook, an unfamiliar entry near the back jumped off the page at her, and her heart leapt into her throat.
    Lo, I A M W ITH You A LWAYS , it said.
    Lo, I am with you always?
    The words were printed precisely, in small block letters. The phrase sounded vaguely familiar, but the sight of it unsettled Wreath. Frankie must have made the entry, although it didn’t look like her handwriting, and Wreath couldn’t figure out how or when her mother had gotten her hands on the journal.
    The wind blew.
    “Mama?” she whispered.

Chapter 4
    W reath’s first glimpse of a rusted van thrilled her as she clawed her way through a wall of green vines. An ancient school bus and a half-dozen cars sat near the van, along with a storage shed, similar to where she had hidden her belongings in Lucky, and three or four abandoned mobile homes, their doors standing open and insulation hanging from the ceilings.
    But the place was creepier—much creepier—than she had imagined, not nearly like the quaint fairy home she had fantasized about. She picked up a tree branch for protection. “Hello,” she called out in a low voice. “Anyone home?”
    Relieved and terrified when no one answered, the combination of emotions burned most of her spurt of energy. The light faded quickly in the dense undergrowth, and she squinted to check the time on her cheap plastic watch. It was close to seven, and night noises were cranking up.
    She hadn’t realized it got dark so fast. She slapped at an invisible mosquito that buzzed in her ear.
    Wreath tried to talk herself into feeling safe here in the abandoned junkyard she had chosen for her home. This jumbled mess offered excellent protection from prying eyes. Only birds, insects, and frogs punctuated the quiet.
    She could fix up a spot here to stay until she graduated in a year. This was her plan.
    The idea evaporated as an owl hooted in the distance.
    “What was I thinking?” she groaned out loud and wondered what the easiest way to get in touch with welfare people would be. She pulled out the piece of paper with the words
Foster Care
on it, written in her mother’s handwriting.
    She walked up the broken stairs of one of the trailers, and a cat shot out from inside and brushed against her leg, causing her to scream.
    No one