Ear-Witness by Mary Ann Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

she saw that bed, she started to shriek. I hesitated and looked at Flavia, who made a stern face and pointed to the mattress. Brianna clutched at my hair and shrieked even louder. I pried her little hands away and put her down.
    â€œMaybe she’ll stop when we leave the room,” Flavia said.
    Back in the living room, I sat stiffly on the edge of the couch while Brianna screamed hysterically. After about two minutes I went back into the bedroom and picked her up. She sighed, whimpered a little, then hiccuped; her face was pink and triumphant. Tears glistened in her eyelashes as I carried her into the kitchen, where I warmed a bottle of milk.
    The TV program we were watching was a rerun of some violent cop show which was totally nauseating, but it gave us something to talk about. Not that Flavia is hard to talk to, she isn’t. I was the problem. All I could think about was Sheena’s question. If I didn’t ask it, I’d feel like I’d let Sheena down. If I did ask it, I’d feel bad about that, like I was spying on the Lopezes. So I cheated. I told the truth.
    â€œYou remember Sheena, that cop that was here?” I said.
    â€œThe one we met?” Flavia asked.
    â€œYeah. Well, she wanted me to ask you something about the night of the murder.”
    Flavia took the nipple out of Brianna’s mouth and adjusted the top of the bottle. “The milk’s coming out too fast,” she said. “She’ll get gas.”
    â€œYou could burp her,” I said. “Well, anyway, Sheena can’t figure out how come no one in your family heard anything. Especially after I told her how big a fight there was.”
    Flavia kept on fiddling with the suction in the bottle. Brianna was sound asleep.
    â€œSo she kind of suspects that somebody isn’t telling the truth,” I said. “Either me, or your whole family.”
    For several long seconds Flavia didn’t answer. Then she sighed. “It’s my parents,” she said. “They had bad experiences with the police in our country. They were not ... worthy of our trust. So my father is not happy to have us talk to the police here, even though everyone tells us they are not the same at all.”
    â€œBut you heard something?”
    â€œYes,” she answered. Her voice was almost cross.
    â€œYou heard what I heard?”
    â€œJess. Do not do this to me. Please. My father has forbidden us to speak.”
    It was my turn to sigh. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just...
    â€œOh no!” Flavia said.
    â€œWhat happened to the lights?” My voice sounded funny, even to me. Total darkness, sudden total darkness, can come as a nasty surprise. The kind of surprise you get when you see a beady-eyed rat behind the garbage can, or a snake slithering across your path.
    I don’t like the dark. I never have. When I turned thirteen, I was too ashamed to have a babysitter when Mom worked at night, so she got me a flashlight and an extension phone for my room. And I always, always, leave the hall light on. It wasn’t really the dark I was afraid of, it was the shadows, and what my imagination made of them. Stuffed animals, cuddly and harmless in the light, became raging beasts, addicted to human flesh. A sweater and a belt hanging in my closet turned into an evil strangler waiting to make his move.
    Now I was the babysitter myself. No flashlight, no hall light, and even if I could see the numbers on the phone, I wouldn’t know whoto call. Cautiously, I felt my way across the room to the window and looked out. “That’s weird,” I said. “The power is still on across the street, and on both sides of us.” I skirted the TV and the table and made my way to the door to the stairs. I opened it, then quickly shut it again. There wasn’t a glimmer of light anywhere.
    Flavia hadn’t spoken since the power went off, but a big burp echoed across the room, followed by a