The TV Kid by Betsy Byars Read Free Book Online

municipal pool. She had taken him with her through seven states—and all for what? To have him sink down into an overstuffed chair and die.
    Wincing with pain, Lennie got to his feet. Outside, the sun went behind a cloud, and it got dark in the room. For a moment Lennie was terrified. He thought the end had come. He began to shuffle across the room. In a panic he grabbed the sofa, and as he reached for the table, the sun came out again. The room got bright.
    By accident, as he leaned there, he saw his face in the mirror by the front door. It scared him. He looked as wild as a man marooned twenty years on a desert island.
    Lennie swallowed. He took a deep breath. Then slowly, his shoulders hunched forward, his chest heaving with unspent sobs, he started for the door.

Chapter Twelve
    L ennie struggled out onto the front porch. Every step killed him. He could not even touch his wounded leg to the floor now.
    He moved so slowly and carefully it almost seemed that he was not moving at all. Inch by inch he made it across the warped floor boards and caught the porch railing. He hung there for a moment, bent forward, staring down into the ferns below.
    He raised his head then and looked across the lake. The sun had gotten lower in the sky. Could it already be setting? How much time had passed, Lennie wondered. The lake was shining with the red sun and the reflection of the beech trees. Probably not more than a half hour since he had first felt that piercing sting on his ankle.
    The redness of the lake seemed like a bad omen to him, a prediction of terrible things to come. It was like a prophecy. When the waters of the earth turn red ...
    Someone he knew had believed in omens. Who was it? His Grandmother Madison probably. When the caterpillars were thick, a bad winter was coming. When an owl cried in the night, somebody was going to die. What would she say about this? When the waters of the earth turn red ...
    Or maybe it was his Grandfather Madison. No, his Grandfather Madison had been an old man who ran motels and in his spare time worked at making concrete figures to adorn them.
    The thing his Grandfather Madison believed in was not complaining. One time when Lennie had broken his arm and was crying because the cast itched, his Grandfather Madison had told him that there was an old legend that said birds were created without wings. When their wings were put on their bodies as a punishment, the birds complained, but as soon as they stopped complaining, the wings grew to their bodies and lifted them into the air.
    Lennie had been so puzzled about what this had to do with the cast on his arm that he had stopped crying at once. He still didn’t understand it.
    Lennie’s leg jerked again. The pain was so sharp and sudden that Lennie threw back his head like an animal. He felt like howling, but instead he yelled, “Does anybody hear me?”
    He waited, listened to the silence, and then tried again. “Will somebody please help me?” He paused. “I’m over here at the stone house!”
    Nobody answered, and the silence frightened Lennie. It was a total silence. He couldn’t even hear any birds or crickets. The leaves had stopped turning in the trees.
    It was as if he really were the last person on earth. Even Friend couldn’t help him. Remember, Friend had surrendered to the police. In a flash a picture came to Lennie of Friend sitting in a cell at the station, his batteries gradually getting weaker. (“Don’t forget, kids, to keep spare batteries handy so you’ll never be without a Friend.”) By the time the police got around to questioning him, his voice would be too faint to hear.
    “Speak up, son, tell us your name in a good loud voice.”
    Hmmmmmm
    “I said for you to speak up! If you don’t, we’re going to have to take some action.”
    Hmm
    The silence continued. Even the water no longer lapped at the shore.
    Lennie glanced down at his leg. It was swelling now, the skin tight and shiny, and as hot as if it were on