River's Edge by Marie Bostwick Read Free Book Online Page B

the twin who was talking was probably Chip, and the one who stood by nodding in agreement was probably Chuck. However, at that time I wondered how I would ever be able to tell them apart, and if anyone in this country was actually called by the name they’d been born with.
    â€œWatch out for the twins, Elise,” their father said with mock seriousness. “They are always into some kind of mischief. Speaking of which, where is my new screwdriver? I can’t find it anywhere.”
    â€œWe needed it to tighten up the wheels on the go-cart,” said Chuck or Chip through a mouthful of eggs.
    â€œWell, it had better be back in my toolbox where it belongs before supper tonight,” said Reverend Muller, examining the boys over the top of his eyeglasses. “Do I make myself clear?” The twins assured him in unison that he had. The reverend turned his attention to the smallest boy, who was sitting at the end of the table nearest to his mother.
    â€œThis is Curt. He’ll be six years old next month. Won’t you, Curt? Can you say hello to your cousin Elise?” Reverend Muller said hopefully. He spoke more gently than he had to his other children. The little boy didn’t answer, just looked at me with wide, wondering eyes. In spite of his silence, there was something wise and curious in his gaze. I liked him. “Curt isn’t much of a talker,” his father explained to me.
    â€œThat is all right,” I said, smiling at the little one. “I don’t talk much, either. There is so much to learn by listening.”
    â€œThere certainly is,” Mrs. Muller said as she set a plate piled high with eggs and bacon in front of me. The whole family cheered in agreement, then proceeded to talk all at once, with no one listening to anyone else. I ate my breakfast silently, keeping my eyes on my plate, but after a few minutes I sensed someone’s stare and looked up to see Junior’s distrustful gaze boring into me.
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    The empty bed that I’d seen next to mine turned out to belong to Cookie. Until my arrival she’d had the whole room to herself while her brothers shared a long, low room lined with beds that stacked one upon the other, like a dormitory in a boarding school.
    Being an only child, I’d always had my own room, but Cookie said she didn’t mind sharing with me—in fact, she seemed to welcome the company. “It’s been nothing but boys around here forever!” she exclaimed, “I’ve always wanted a sister.”
    She was a great talker and as friendly as everyone else in the family. The Mullers were all as nice as could be. Even little Curt, who rarely spoke, gave me a shy smile whenever I looked his way. Only Junior seemed a bit cold and aloof, but that didn’t bother me. Besides, with so many people trying so hard to get me to talk to them, it was a relief to have at least one who seemed content to maintain his distance.
    I knew the Mullers were very kind to take me in, yet I couldn’t help but feel that their manners and way of life were awfully crude. There were no servants of any kind. Mrs. Muller did all the cooking and housework. She seemed always to be in the kitchen. The children helped her, and they all had jobs to do every day, but Mrs. Muller didn’t assign any tasks to me, and I didn’t offer to help, not sure what I should do. Once I heard Junior ask his mother why he had to help Cookie hang out the wash when I was just sitting around reading, but Mrs. Muller shushed him and said something about giving me time to get my bearings. Junior scowled in my direction as he carried the laundry basket outside. I pretended not to hear or see him.
    Cookie spent more time in the kitchen than the boys, but they all were expected to take their turn clearing the dinner table and washing the dishes. I’d never washed a dish in my life and was embarrassed for the Muller boys to be caught drying pots and pans,