Home by Brenda Kearns Read Free Book Online Page B

spreader.
    “Go on,” he said, nodding. “I keep my promises.”
    “Thank you.” Allie still hated him, but at least she didn’t have to clean out that filthy pen.
    As Allie walked through the barn, she could hear the twins yakking loudly about artificial arms. No doubt they were following Arthur around like shadows while he did all the work. Blackie stared at her as she stomped past, chewing the fresh hay that someone had dumped in his pen. He’d actually moved a few feet to get to it. It looked weird, seeing him standing in a new spot.
    Allie headed out into the sunshine and opened the pasture gate. Cows were scattered all across the field. Only Blackie and Scooter were still penned up inside. Might as well get cleaned up and go for a walk, Allie thought.
    JoJo met her in the kitchen.
    “Allie, that...uh...” JoJo blinked when she saw Allie’s clothes, but kept talking as if it wasn’t weird to have a manure-coated kid in the kitchen. Which it probably wasn’t. “That social worker wants you to fill in this paper. And can you feed Tripod, please?” JoJo handed Allie the paper and a pen, then pulled on some rubber boots.
    Allie looked at the sheet. It was blank. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
    “She said...” JoJo rolled her eyes. “She said she wants you to write a letter to an imaginary pen pal, telling her about your hopes and dreams and fears.”
    Allie stared at JoJo.
    “You have got to be kidding.”
    “I kid you not,” JoJo said, as she headed out to the barn. “This worker’s a real winner, huh?”
    Allie couldn’t come up with a good retort—and JoJo had left, anyway—so she washed and changed, crammed the pen and paper into her back pocket, then headed out to see the dog.
    Tripod was lying in the sun on his fuzzy blanket. When he realized Allie was coming over to see him, his tail thumped on the ground.
    Allie filled his water bowl from the rain barrel beside the barn, like she’d seen Jonathan do. Then she grabbed a handful of dog food from the storage bin and put it into Tripod’s other bowl.
    She put the bowls near Tripod’s head, then waited for him to eat. He whimpered as he tried to twist his body so he could get his head into the dish. It was clearly hurting him.
    Allie looked around. There was no one in the yard to help. So she took a piece of dog food, dipped it in water and offered it to Tripod. He licked it out of her hand, then lay his head back down while he chewed, staring at her and gently thumping his tail. Allie soaked another piece of food, then another and another, feeding them to Tripod until he didn’t want to eat any more.
    She lay her hand gently on what was left of his leg, feeling the heat through the bandages. He thunked his tail once more, then yawned and closed his eyes.
    Must be nice to be happy , Allie thought. Nice to feel like you’ve got a real home.
    Allie pulled the crumpled paper out of her pocket, smoothed it down and started writing.
    Dear Imaginary Pen Pal,
    Well, they’re at it again. All that social worker crap about getting a better future and understanding your past and blah blah blah. Now I have to write a stupid letter about my goals and fears.
    Here’s the thing: My goals used to be to read every book I could find and to become a famous writer. Now things are different. Now my goal is to get us moved back in with Mom. My fear is that we’ll be dragged from one foster home to the next, until they dump us on the street. That’s what happens, you know. If you’re not with a real family when you turn 18, they just shut down your foster care file. Get lost. Find a bench to sleep on. I can’t let that happen to Madeleine and Luke.
                  Wanna know a secret? I’m scared. My goal is to fix things up, patch things up and cover things up—again—so Madeleine and Luke can have a happy life. But I’m scared that I’m not good enough to do it.
    Allie looked down at Tripod. When he saw her looking at him, he put