The Same Stuff as Stars by Katherine Paterson Read Free Book Online Page B

story?”
    â€œWhat kind of story?” He stuck his thumb in his mouth and began picking at the blue plush on the bear.
    She wanted to tell him not to, that Grizzle was her bear, not his to pick bald, but she controlled herself. A
story.
The only story she could think of at the moment was Hansel and Grizzle; no, Gretel. Hansel and Gretel.
    â€œOnce upon a time,” she began, remembering as she went along that the evil mother made the father take the children deep into the woods, where they met a witch. She prayed her mother would call up the stairs and interrupt. Soon.
    â€œSo the children had to spend the night in the woods.”
    Bernie pulled his thumb out of his mouth. “Were they scared?”
    â€œWell, sure, but Hansel was very brave.”
    â€œThat was the brother, right?”
    â€œThe
big
brother. He didn’t suck his thumb. He was too brave, and besides, all these angels came and watched over them so none of the wild animals could eat them up.”
    â€œI’m hungry.”
    She hurried on. “In the morning they began to try to find their way home.”
    â€œI want to go home, Angel. I don’t like it here.”
    â€œWe hardly got here, Bernie. You might like it after a while. When you’re used to it.”
    â€œI won’t never get used to it. Never. Never. Never.”
    â€œYou’re always saying ‘never,’ Bernie. How do you know? This might be the best place we’ve ever lived.”
    â€œIt’ll be the worst. I know.” He got up and went over to the small window in the eaves. He was quiet for a while. Then she could see his little body tensing up. “Angel,” he whispered. “There’s a robber out there.”
    â€œOh, Bernie, you know there’s not!”
    â€œCome here and see if you don’t believe me.”
    She got up and went over to the window. “Where?” she asked.
    He pointed to the left. There was a dark figure moving toward the corner of the house. “See? I told you,” he said. “Now do you believe me?”
    She put her arm around his shoulders. They were both shivering.

 
    Â 
    SIX
Santy Claus
    You better call the police,” said Bernie.
    A picture flashed through Angel’s head. It was night. Angel was suddenly awake, her heart pounding.
Bang Bang Bang.
Someone was banging on the front door.
Police! Open up!
When no one opened the door that night, they crashed it in and took Daddy away. “No,” she said, “not the police, Bernie.”
    â€œYou got to. See that gun?” The figure had something in his hands, something huge, like the biggest gun Angel had ever seen outside a war movie on TV. A bazooka—that’s what they called them.
    â€œAngel. What if he’s coming to kill us dead?”
    She tightened her grip around his shoulders. “Of course he’s not, silly.” She couldn’t stand to see him so afraid. “It’s nothing, I’m sure. But if you like, I’ll just go down and tell Mama, okay?”
    â€œDon’t leave me up here by myself!”
    â€œOkay, but you got to be quiet. Let me do the talking. Promise?”
    â€œYeah, I promise.” He didn’t object when she took his hand.
    As they sidled down the narrow staircase, the voices from the kitchen grew louder. Verna’s voice came through clearly. “Just for a few days, I swear,” she was saying. “No more than a week.”
    Angel froze on the next-to-bottom step. She strained to make out the words of the reply, but they were muffled and impossible to understand.
    â€œI got a little cash,” Verna said next. “Enough to cover food for the week.”
    What does Verna mean about a week? She told us this was our new home.
    Mumble. Mumble.
    â€œWell, I can’t be responsible for Wayne. You raised him. I didn’t.” Verna’s voice was shrill as a crow squawk.
    Bernie punched Angel in the ribs. “Go