One for the Murphys Read Online Free Page B

no bumps left from constant use.
    My mother smelled like vodka when she came in, complaining about me bouncing the ball inside. I wasn’t too surprised when she lunged for it. I jumped to the side and she stumbled, then landed on the floor. She held her leg, her face twisted in pain. “Carley,” she yelled. “You better show me some respect!”
    Her new husband, Dennis,
who had been fired as an Elvisimpersonator back in Vegas, came in
wearing his paste-on black sideburns to check on his howling wife.
    He asked me what I’d done and I said, “All I did was move out of her way.”
    Einstein spoke. “That don’t explain why she’s laying on the floor.”
    “Why? Are you the only one who can hit her?” This wasn’t smart to say, but the bruises I had seen on my mother—even before their wedding—made me so mad.
    “What I done to her is nothing compared to what I’m gonna do to you,” he said.
    My mother watched, groaning as she held her leg.
    I ran around the dining room table as he tried to catch me, steadying himself on the table as he went.
    “Hey, Dennis. How does one get fired as an Elvis impersonator? Is it because you sing like your foot is caught in a steel trap?” Another dumb thing to say, but I’d decided to egg him on, to really annoy him. Because I had just come up with a master plan to show my mother why she had to leave him.
    He lunged at me across the top of the table and I jumped back. If it weren’t for his fat stomach, he might have gotten me.
    “I hate you, Dennis. You’re nothing but a loser.”
    He slammed his fist on the table, but his voice was quiet and intense. “Too bad I’ll be the last thing you ever see.”
    My plan suddenly felt like a suicide mission, but I knew that if he hit me, my mother would be angry. One good belt is all I would have to take, and she would tell him to go. Forever.
    I was ready.
    I held up an imaginary microphone, and I sang “Don’t Be Cruel.”
    “I’m gonna shut you up for good, little girl.”
    My mother cried out for me, and I moved toward her.
    Something clamped around my ankle. I looked down and it was my mother’s hand holding me. She needed my help.
    “Mom! What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”
    But she didn’t answer. Instead she spoke to Dennis. “Honey, I got her! I got her by the foot!”

CHAPTER 8

Wake Up and Smell the Apple Juice
    M y face itches. My eyelids flutter. I smell apple juice.
    I open my eyes expecting to see a nurse, but instead I see tree branches and a black-velvet sky sprinkled with silver glitter. I am freezing and wonder if I’m finally dead.
    I hear my name.
    Turning my head, I see Mrs. Murphy and I am confused.
    I can still feel my mother’s hand on my ankle and the first hit from Dennis. Harder than I imagined it could be. And then I think how I couldn’t remember anything that happened after that or how my mother landed in the hospital too.
    “Carley?” Mrs. Murphy whispers.
    My first question surprises me. “Where are the boys?” I mumble.
    “They’re fine. I called Jack and asked him to come home.”
    I think that she belongs with them and not with me and if sheleft me in this orchard forever, I would be happy. I could be the wild girl raised by the apple trees. This would be my excuse for not fitting into society.
    “It’s so cold, Carley. Let’s get you home.” She reaches for me.
    Home? I don’t have a home. And I can’t believe this woman I don’t even know is reaching for me. I never cry anymore, but with this woman’s open hand in front of me and the memory of my mother’s hands around my ankle, I almost lose it.
    It hurts, but I let her pull me up. I stare at my feet as we walk back to the house. Wondering why she cares what happens to me. Relieved we don’t have to talk.
    “Let’s get you inside and warm,” she says, opening the front door and stepping inside.
    I follow. She closes the door and turns off a bunch of lights that were on outside.
    “You have a lot of lights,” I