Finn by Matthew Olshan Read Free Book Online Page A

Momma’s waiting, tiger,” as if he was my real Dad. I caught myself automatically starting to pretend that I was his daughter. Suddenly, I caught a glimpse of the life in store for me with Mom and Bobby—a night-time, liar’s life, without rules. Instead of just being pushed towards the door, it was as if I was being pushed out to sea. The confusing part was that I loved the sea, only not enough to want to drown in it.
    Bobby squeezed my arm again, right on one of the fence scratches. Without even thinking about it, I stopped in front of the policeman and said, “This man is kidnapping me.”
    The policeman looked around at the other people in the Krispy Kreme to see if they were laughing, which they weren’t, but then he started laughing. Everyone else joined in, even Bobby. “Kidnapped, huh?” said the policeman, more to the people at the counter than to me. “Then maybe you should call the police.” Everybody thought that was hilarious. The policeman elbowed Bobby in the ribs and said, “Cute kid.” Bobby grinned and said, “She’s a pistol.” Then Bobby herded me out of the store. I didn’t bother to say anything else to the policeman. It would have been pointless.
    Outside the Krispy Kreme, Bobby told me that what I had just done was super dumb, but I knew he wasn’t going to rat me out. He was mad, but ratting me out would have gotten him in worse trouble than me.
    I thought things were okay when I climbed into the van, but Mom was waiting for me in the back of the van. She had seen everything, or at least enough, because after we pulled out of the Krispy Kreme lot and were safely on the highway, she came over and hit me in the face with her fist.
    It got me partly in the eye, but mostly on my nose, which tends to bleed easily. “What was that for?” I said, hunching over to avoid ruining my clothes. I was not going to cry in front of her.
    Of course I knew why she had hit me, and she knew that I knew. She didn’t bother to explain. Instead, she went over and opened the side door, which you’re never supposed to do when the van is moving, and definitely not at highway speed. The wind roared into the van and rocked it back and forth. Hamburger wrappers and drink lids swirled into the air, which was suddenly full of white dust. Bobby hit the brakes and said, “What the hell?” Mom turned to me and shouted, “You want out?”
    The car in the lane next to us swerved and honked. Mom leaned out the open door, gave the driver the finger, and started screaming that he should mind his own business. Bobby was shouting back over his shoulder, asking Mom to please get back inside the van. She stayed out there for a second, facing the wind, chin up, her eyes shut. Her gorgeous hair whipped her shoulders. Then she stared down at the wet pavement for a while. She was crouching by the open door like a troll guarding a magic gate. She flung her arm out into the sixty-mile-an-hour wind, which made her hand fly up like a bird. She turned to me and said, “You want out? Go ahead. Be my guest.”
    The dark trees and the concrete walls of the highway streamed behind her in bars of angry color while she waited for my answer. I didn’t give her one. Then she slid the door shut, forcing it against the wind, which was no match for her powerful arms and legs.
    After that, everything seemed silent except the windshield wipers, which squeaked against the windshield. Apparently, it had started to rain. Bobby offered me a donut after a while. I wanted to eat one—I hadn’t really eaten all day—but I was afraid of what Mom would do if I did, so I said I wasn’t hungry. Bobby offered to save me one for later, but Mom told him not to bother.
    She said I’d had enough for one night.

Chapter Eight

    I managed to stall Mom and Bobby for a few more days by making up things about my grandparents’ habits, but I didn’t count on my Mom remembering that Monday was the anniversary of my Dad’s death, the day my grandparents