Anybody's Child by Michelle Kidd (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📕

Mommy shakes her head, flat against the wall now. She looks as if she is going to faint.

“He called you some horrible things, but I defended you. Me, being the gentleman I am, thought I’d give you a few days to get yourself together. I ain’t as picky as some. I like crazy.” Mr. Gerganous runs his fat knuckle along the side of Mommy’s face. “Yes, ma’am, crazy works for me just fine.” He grabs Mommy by the arm as she slides down the wall.

Panic fills Charleigh’s heart. “Mommy!”

But Mr. Gerganous catches her before Charleigh can reach her. “She’s fine,” he says, supporting Mommy with one hand and stops Charleigh with the other. “Ain’t no cause for you to worry none. Your Mommy and me, we got to work out a little deal so you two can go on living here.” He waves his pudgy palm in a grand gesture.

“No,” Mommy whimpers. “I won’t­—”

“Hush, now. ’Course you will. You don’t want your sweet girl out on the street, do you? No telling what might happen to the two of you. Besides, where you gonna go? You let ol’ Garland take care of you. I’ll treat you real nice, you’ll see.” He brushes back her hair with his huge hand.

Mommy’s eyes are wild, reminding Charleigh of the rat in the trap. “You leave her alone.” Charleigh hurries toward him and tugs on his leg. But he is a giant and she can’t budge him.

Mr. Gerganous sneers at her. “You go on, now! I’ll take care of you later.” He raises a hand to stop her, and his body odor almost knocks her down.

“No!” She kicks him hard, but he only laughs. Desperate, she takes hold of his arm, bares her teeth, and sinks them into his leathery skin.

He bellows, draws back, and sends Charleigh flying across the room. She gulps, working her mouth like a fish as she tries to suck in sweet air. Her head slams against something solid. Her eyes cloud with thousands of black specks, all scurrying before her until they completely block her sight and the sound of Mommy screaming her name.

PRESENT DAY

Beth Shannon blinked and studied the wide arc of pale blue painting her ceiling. The tiny seashell lamp provided just enough light to make out familiar objects—her desk, bookshelf, dresser. Nothing out of place, but something had jolted her from sleep. The threads of a dream clung to her. She shivered, left with a lingering sense of uneasiness.

Shifting shadows played along her wall as her eyes grew heavy. All at once she was wide awake. Her hands gripped the sheet when she noticed the opened closet—she never left it open. A childhood fear of the boogeyman refused to let her sleep if there was even the slightest crack. Had she been so upset she’d forgotten to check it last night? No—no way she’d ever forget!

At seventeen, Beth had long outgrown her juvenile phobias but not the need to secure the door. Finding it opened caused an unnatural fear to inch up her spine. The darkness that oozed out mocked her, daring her to get up and shut it, lest some evil escaped.

Sheesh, Beth! Get a grip. You’re not a two-year-old.

Thankfully, she no longer suffered from the night terrors that had sent her running through the house as a toddler. Once, the result had been a trip to the ER and stitches from colliding into a wall. She still sported a small scar over her right eyebrow. Not that she remembered any of it or the sleepwalking that started again in her early teens. But this wasn’t a dream. She was wide-awake now.

She rolled to her side and looked at the clock: 3:43 a.m. It had taken forever to fall asleep after the argument with Mom. Was it any wonder she felt out of sorts? Last night Beth had stormed to her room and shoved in her earbuds—anything to block out the hateful fight with Mom. Forget falling back to sleep now. The stupid alarm would go off any minute, and it would be time to get ready for school.

Beth punched the pillow, her earlier fear forgotten. What was Mom’s problem? Why was she acting so weird lately, and when had hanging with her friends become such a big deal? The thing was, they’d always been close. Mom’s sudden paranoia made no sense.

Beth eyed the clock again. She’d be a zombie by Mr. Gilbert’s algebra class, and the last thing she needed was to get caught sleeping again.

Suddenly, she heard movement. She lifted her head, listening to a faint but steady scratching from somewhere inside the house. Her mind thumbed through possible explanations. Maybe Mom was on her way to the kitchen or Mindy had to use the bathroom? It couldn’t be Dad. He worked a twelve-hour shift and wouldn’t be home for hours.

No. It wasn’t the sound of feet shuffling, or water running, or a commode flushing—rather a rustling, like a drawer easing open and shut, cabinets opening and closing. A prickling sensation raced down her back. She strained to catch the noise until the muscles in her neck ached. It was quiet. A deliberate quiet—if there was such a thing. What should she do?

The furnace kicked in, and their clunker heater drowned out the sound of anything else. For goodness sake, Beth! There’s no boogeyman. More likely it was her little sister. Remembering how excited Mindy had been for her birthday, Beth pictured her nosing around, trying to find her presents. The tightness in her shoulders eased as she comforted herself with the explanation. Nothing to fear, right?

She hoped Mom had remembered to pick up the cake, but given how preoccupied she’d been, she doubted it. Birthday cakes . . . gifts. Such ordinary things brought a measure of reassurance. Maybe she should let Mom deal with Mindy prowling around the house in the middle of the night. It would serve her right, but Beth had a soft spot for the little stinkbug. Better see where she was and get her back to her room. Flipping back the edge of the comforter, she swung her feet off the bed. The icy chill grabbed her when her bare toes hit the hardwood floor. She laughed and saw herself relating the whole spooky odyssey to Jeni at school later that morning. They’d have a good chuckle over it.

To prove she wasn’t a coward, she marched to the offending closet and closed it. There! She made it as far as the hallway when she heard more scuffling. It sounded like it came from downstairs.

She took several steps toward Mindy’s room. Her sister’s Hello Kitty nightlight reflected on the hardwood floor. Beth checked the bed to confirm her suspicions and was surprised to see her sister’s blonde curls spilling across the pillowcase. If Mindy was here—

There it was again, the movement, except this time it wasn’t coming from one direction. There were two sounds, one from her mother’s room and the other from beneath her. Fear staked her to the floor as she listened to the unmistakable footsteps below. Lord, please let it be Dad! She couldn’t imagine why he’d be home, but there had to be a reasonable explanation. Break-ins happen to people on TV, not to ordinary families like hers. All anger from her fight earlier vanished. She just wanted her mama.

With blood whooshing inside her ears, she eased farther down the hall. She had to pass the stairwell before reaching her parents’ bedroom. She stopped and leaned over the railing, listening. Without a doubt, someone was down there. Mom would know what to do. She hurried on and slipped into her mother’s room.

“Mom?” Her voice came out in a desperate whisper. “Mom, someone’s in the house.”

Beth recognized the fast-pulsed tone of her mom’s outdated telephone. Why was it off the hook? “Mom?”

The light from the master bath spilled crosswise revealing her mother lying on the floor. She lay on her side, almost face down, with her hand stretched toward the phone. The handset rested out of reach sending out an urgent alarm that matched the beat of Beth’s heart.

“Mom!” Beth scrambled to her mother’s slumped figure thinking she’d fallen. The dark wetness didn’t register in Beth’s panicked mind as she checked her. “Mom! Mom!” She shook the lifeless shoulder as hysteria bubbled inside her throat. Why wouldn’t she wake up?

She pulled her hands back to find them wet, sticky. She stared down at her palms in disbelief and stumbled backward, shaking her head. “No—no!”

Then she saw the hideous gash in her mother’s throat. A glittering, thick substance covered the front of her gown. It couldn’t be—couldn’t be blood. People didn’t live with . . . Oh, Lord, please help me! Her knees wobbled. Bile rose from deep in her stomach.

“Mama! Mama, please don’t leave me!” Her own strangled cry resounded through her head, a desperate, guttural plea Mama would never hear.

From the moment Beth found her mother, all that was rational and normal in her life shattered. She was like Alice in Wonderland, tumbling down, down the rabbit hole. She couldn’t think how to move or breathe as she cradled the hand that had held hers through sickness and pain.

Her mom’s cold touch jolted something inside Beth, like flipping a switch. Someone was still in the house. She needed help—needed someone to tell her what to do.

Beth scrambled for the phone, dropping it twice from her trembling hands, and pressed the button over and over again until she got a dial tone.

Finally! She punched in 9-1-1 and waited what seemed an eternity for someone to answer. “Pick up,” she whispered.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“Hello? Hello . . . yes, I need help. Please.”

“What’s your emergency?”

“My mom. She’s . . . she’s not breathing. Please. There’s someone still in the house. I’m at 211 Stacey Street.”

“Are you sure she’s not breathing?”

“Yes—yes, she’s . . . someone cut her—” Beth couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “Please, send someone.”

“Okay, stay calm,” the voice advised. “Are you someplace secure? I’m dispatching someone right now.”

“Yes, I’m in my mom’s bedroom. Please, my father’s a deputy. Can you reach him? Roger Shannon.”

“What’s your name?”

“B-Beth, can you hurry?”

“Yes, Beth. We’re sending someone now. I need you to secure the door. Can you do