Liquid Death (The Edinön Trilogy Book 1) by Mitzi C Read Free Book Online

to get a job as soon as possible. I have some...” he pulls a stack of papers out of his satchel, “job applications if you're interested. I know it must be hard to get a job the way the economy is these days, so I took the liberty of narrowing down your search to companies in your vicinity that are actually hiring. I hope you don't mind.”
                  My uncle takes the stack and glances through it. “Not at all. I appreciate it. Beggars can't be choosers.” Behind his appreciative smile, I can see the flame emerging from the embers that are perpetually smoldering within his eyes.
                  “No doubt.” Mr. Boon then turns his attention to me. “Now it's time to decide what you two need. It is the Holiday season, and we have raised quite a bit of money from our recent fundraiser. So let's get down to what you need, and if we have any room left, what you want.” He flips his clipboard documents to the last page and retrieves a pen from his suit coat pocket. “Let's start with food and preferences. Any food allergies we should be aware of?”
                  “I am allergic to nuts, but Kandi will eat just about anything.”
                  Finally, he speaks the truth.
                  “Okay.” Mr. Boon writes something down. “What about hygiene products, like soap, shampoo, and so forth?”
                  “We are almost out of soap,” Jim answers, “and Kandi could use some more... feminine products.”
                  “Yes, of course.” Write write write. “Is your car in need of any repair?”
                  “No.”
                  “Okay, let's move on to clothing. We will provide Kandi some clothes from our stash of donations since it appears she's wearing clothes that belonged to people three times her size, at least.” Ouch. “What about you, Mr. Levinson?”
                  Blah, blah, blah. I'm so tired, I don't think I can listen to them anymore. My eyelids begin to droop over my blistering eyes, and my mind wanders...
                 
                  After what feels like fifty years, Mr. Boon inspects the entire house and, seemingly satisfied, shakes my uncle's hand and departs.
                  My uncle wastes no time returning to his normal self. He looks at me accusingly and huffs, then walks swiftly down the hall and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
                 
                  In my bedroom at about five o'clock in the evening, I'm lying on my bed admiring the small box wrapped in beautiful golden/scarlet/green paper. A small tear leaks from the corner of my eye and slides down my face, hitting my flat white pillow and soaking into the fabric.
                  I recall waking up early Christmas morning when I was eight, unable to sleep any longer – my excitement growing as I thought about what could be under the tree. A new bike? A doll? Candy? I had to know. I had to. I couldn't sit still in bed and wait until my parents woke up.
                  So I climbed out of bed and padded down the hallway in my princess nightgown and walked as quietly and ninja-like as possible down the stairs. As soon as I saw the Christmas tree lights illuminating the wrapped packages that concealed who-knew-what, I almost squealed. Luckily, I was able to contain myself.
                  My father was sitting in front of the old fireplace stoking the fire.
                  I turned to go back upstairs before he saw me, but apparently he already knew I was there. “Kandi?” He looked up and smiled. I faltered. “You're supposed to be asleep.”
                  “I couldn't sleep,” I told him innocently.
                  “Come here.” He gestured with his hands to come sit by him. I obeyed, walking down the stairs and