The Star Child (The Star Child Series) by Stephanie Keyes Read Free Book Online Page A

sir.” I tried to make my voice sound obedient, not wanting to draw much attention to myself, even on a phone call. In my experience, attention generally resulted in criticism.
    “The Headmaster tells me that you’re doing incredibly well.” There was smugness to his tone and I wondered dimly what right he had to that emotion, since he’d done little to ensure my success in this place.
    When I didn't respond, he continued. “The best news is that he says that you can graduate early and he'll write a personal recommendation to Yale. Imagine, Kellen, you could be in college at thirteen.”
    One couldn’t mistake the note of triumph in his voice. Yale was Stephen’s alma mater. He wanted nothing more than for both Roger and me to walk in his footsteps. Although I was quite certain that Roger would have reveled in this honor (had he not been a complete moron), it wasn’t for me.
    I started to panic as I realized that this would mean yet another move. This wasn't what I wanted; I didn’t want to leave. Boarding school was the first time that I'd ever experienced any sort of stability and I didn't want to go. I made the mistake of objecting, one of many unfortunate occasions when I decided to share my feelings.
    “Father, I want to stay in this school. I like it and I have friends here.” There was a pleading tone to my voice and I could tell he was sneering at me over the phone as I spoke. He didn’t even have to respond for me to know that I’d lost the battle.
    “Friends. Friends. You want to stay behind in school because of friends? That's absurd. No, you’ll be going to Yale.”
    The conversation ended and there was no going back. The rest of the year was occupied by a series of advanced prep classes. Though, I tried to do poorly so that they’d keep me behind, there was nothing for it. When I turned thirteen, I was off to Yale, my request to stay behind viciously ignored. My friends and my life in England were left in the dust.
    ***
    The cab jostled me from my reverie as it pulled up to the curb, rousing me from my musings.
    “Here we are son,” the cabbie announced, hopping out and setting my bags on the curb. “Fourteen quid,” he continued, holding out a ruddy palm, not bothering to look my way.
    Climbing out of the cab, I paid the fare and grabbed my bags, slinging a gray and orange backpack roughly over my shoulder. “Thanks for the ride.”
    I looked up at the townhouse directly in front of me before jogging up the steps. After a butler answered the door, I was immediately ushered into Alistair’s study.
    “Kellen, good to see you.” Alistair St. James jumped to his feet and ran over to hug me.
    I stepped into his embrace and patted him on the back. “Hey Grandfather.”
    With a glance around the room, I took in the familiar flowery chintz and wood paneling. Alistair called this room “The Floral Explosion”. His reasoning was that any room with that many different kinds of flowers in it deserved a title that began with the word “The”.
    However much it was not to his liking, his beloved, now late wife, Imogen, had decorated it. There wouldn’t be redecoration anytime soon, if at all. Alistair gestured to a seat on a beige-colored lowboy next to a short, squat, mahogany table.
    Despite the wide array of pastels, the room was comfortable, as was the home itself, like putting on a favorite pair of socks. All who graced its doorstep were welcome, regardless of the fancy London address. Fortunately, breakfast had been laid out and my stomach, constantly in search of any chocolate or Pepsi products, growled insistently in the absence of both.
    “Tuck in.” Alistair reached for a fork and pulled a tray closer to him. He usually preferred that we eat in the dining room, but he chose the setup for me. He was trying to make me feel at home and I wasted no time taking him up on his offer of breakfast.
    We ate while I updated Alistair on the graduation ceremony and Stephen’s absence. Alistair had