Taming the Star Runner by S. E. Hinton Read Free Book Online Page A

around his ankles and announced, “I did poo, come see,” Ken reacted like it was a miracle.
    Hell, thought Travis, it’d be more of a miracle if he didn’t do any.
    He hated to admit it, but maybe he was just a little bit jealous.
    He watched Ken answer the phone and try to talk with Christopher climbing up his back, hanging around his neck, yelling, “I will fall you down!” and laughing till Ken couldn’t hear or make himself heard; Travis marveled at his patience. He’d have pitched the kid across the room by now…
    â€œIt’s for you,” Ken repeated, holding out the phone, and Travis shook himself awake. Who’d be calling him?
    He took the phone, grateful that Ken was hauling Chris out of the room.
    â€œHi, hon.”
    It was Mom. He remembered how he’d called her Donna the Hon, even to her face, and he was suddenly ashamed.
    â€œHi.”
    â€œHow are you?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œHow’s Kenny?”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œEverything fine?”
    â€œYeah. What’s up?”
    He couldn’t bring himself to ask about Stan.
    â€œI just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
    â€œYeah.” Surely she knew Ken would call her if he got run over by the school bus or something.
    â€œWell, hon, are you getting enough to eat?”
    â€œSure,” he lied a little; it was spooky that she’d ask that, though…
    â€œTravis, you’ve got a letter here from a publishing house—you haven’t been buying a lot of books or joined a book club?”
    â€œNaw.” Travis thought for a minute. “No—wait! Don’t open it!”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œI don’t know.” He paced in a small circle, dragging the phone, tripping over the cord. “I don’t know. Just send it to me, okay? Don’t open it.”
    â€œAll right, hon. I’ll get it in the mail tomorrow.”
    â€œTonight.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGet it in the mail tonight, okay?”
    â€œWell, hon, by the time we get through with dinner I think the post office will be closed.”
    Let the big slug skip dinner for once, Travis thought, but knew that was impossible. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t talk.
    â€œHon? I’ve got to get off the phone now, I promised Stan I wouldn’t talk too long.”
    â€œPut it in the mail right now,” Travis said slowly.
    â€œSay hi to Kenny for me. I wish I could see his little boy. Send me a picture, okay?”
    â€œDon’t open it.”
    â€œBye, hon.”
    Travis had trouble getting the phone back on the cradle, weird damn phone, shaped like a doughnut.
    The book! The book! He was going to hear about the book he’d written! He’d tried hard just to forget about it, knowing it’d be a long time before he heard anything, but it had nagged at him like a dull toothache.
    That was probably why he hadn’t been able to write lately, he thought suddenly, why he hadn’t really written anything since he’d sent the manuscript off. It was like something unfinished…
    He expected a rejection. All writers got lots of rejections. Hemingway had gotten about a million of them. He wasn’t sure how many Stephen King got.
    It was okay, getting a rejection. You wanted to write, you just had to get used to it, like if you wanted to fight you had to take getting punched. He’d just send it to another publishing house, he had the next three places picked out already. What he was hoping for, really, that whoever read it this time would tell him something, anything, it was too long or too short or too—whatever. Why they didn’t want it—that was all he was hoping for, this time.
    But maybe they did. Maybe they were saying, “We’ll publish it and here’s a million dollars!” He had a strong desire to call Mom back, have her open it and read it to him. He wasn’t going to be able to stand