In Control (The City Series) by Crystal Serowka Read Free Book Online Page B

arm and pulling me down next to him.
    “If you tell her I did this, I’ll lure you out to the ocean and leave you there for the sharks,” I threatened.
    “Fine. We’ll just hope no one asks any questions.”
    I never imagined the kitchen floor being a comfortable place for sleeping, but as we fell asleep, both of us looking like we’d wrestled a bull...and lost, I mouthed the three words that couldn’t be said out loud.
    Yet.

It was the first day of summer vacation, and already I wished I was back in school. Back at the place that gave me sanctuary. I had exactly 79 days to fill. 79 days of avoiding the Hendersons at all costs. 79 days until the safe haven that was school reopened. I had just woken up, shivering from the chilled air in the basement. The small windows were old and full of rust, allowing the air from outside to seep through the cracks. I wrapped my frail body in the thin sheet, wishing that I had a blanket.
    Last night, when I arrived home, I was the happiest I’d ever been. I had the sort of day that I’d only read about. Porter Henning signed my yearbook with the most beautiful message. He wanted to take me to Cafe Grumpy and fill my stomach with cookies and muffins. With that thought, my mouth watered, kicking my stomach into hunger overdrive. I didn’t know how we would meet up. I don’t even think he knew where I lived. I could look in the school directory and call him, but what if Mr. or Mrs. Henderson found out I used the phone? I didn’t want to think of the consequences, though if I wanted a whole day with Porter Henning, I’d have to go for it—put my fear aside, and just do it.
    The floor above me shook, and I could hear Mrs. Henderson shouting over the TV.
    “Jenny!” she called. “Turn down that racket!”
    Jenny was a year younger than me. The Hendersons had taken her in six months ago, and the moment she arrived, I knew she hated me. When she walked into the front door, the first things she noticed were her bleak surroundings, particularly the box TV sitting on the floor and the yellowed wallpaper tearing at the corners of the wall. She turned her nose up in the air, like she was the queen and didn’t belong in such a low-class place. When her eyes met mine, I smiled, excited to see that there would be another kid in the house that was my age. I was overjoyed at the thought of playing games that weren’t meant for toddlers, and being able to finally relate to someone. That illusion was shattered the minute she glared at me.
    It was because of Jenny that I moved to the basement. It was because of her that I couldn’t eat my meals at the dining table. It was because of her that something inside Mrs. Henderson changed and instead of ignoring me, I became her boxing bag.
    Jenny was the cause of my life going from bad to worse, yet almost every day, I tried to get her to like me. A few days ago, I worked up the courage to ask why she hated me.
    “ Why do I hate you?”
    “Yes,” I answered. “I’ve never done anything to you. I’ve always been nice to you.”
    “You’re weird looking,” Jenny finally replied.
    “I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head back and forth.
    “Your hair is nappy. You dress like a little baby,” she counted. “And your skin color looks like poop.”
    I was speechless. I stood in front of her, hoping that I didn’t cry, trying so hard to hold my tears back. I looked at her. Through her. Searching for the thing that caused her to hate what was different.
    Jenny was right, after all. My hair was a mess. My skin was brown. I was different through and through, but I never hated myself until she pointed out those flaws.
    Jenny didn’t move, she just stared at me, anticipating my reaction. “You’re never going to get adopted,” she taunted. “Parents don’t want your kind in their families.”
    With that sentence, I ran out of the living room and down to the basement, where I curled into a ball and cried. I cried for hours, but no