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by Brenda Kearns


  Madeleine and Luke threw themselves into her arms and she hugged them. Really hugged them. Allie couldn’t stop grinning. It was the happiest she’d felt in weeks. Everything was going to be perfect.

  “Come on in, Allie. I bought pizza.”

  The twins raced into the living room and threw themselves on the couch as Allie stepped through the doorway.

  Stone stayed in the hall. “I’ll be back in 24 hours,” she said. “We’re not out of the woods, yet. I’ll be checking with the kids to find out—”

  Without a word, their mom grabbed the door and slammed it in Stone’s face. Hard.

  “Whatever,” she said, as she spun around and headed for the living room. “Stan! Bring our supper.”

  The smile slid off Allie’s face. Stan—the same guy who’d been there last time—came sauntering out of the kitchen. He was carrying two enormous pizza boxes, plus a brown paper bag from the liquor store.

  “Oh, don’t you worry, silly girl,” their mom said, looking at Allie. “We won’t eat any of your pizza.”

  “Mom...it’s not the pizza.” Allie sank down on the lumpy couch. “Do you think maybe tonight you could, you know, not drink?”

  “Look, I’ll cut down, but I’m not gonna quit, and that’s that,” her mom said. “Foster homes are a pain, but you need to suck it up. You play the game and they’ll let you come home. You know what to do.”

  Stan handed Allie’s mom a glass of whiskey, then tossed the pizza boxes on the coffee table. The twins dug in.

  Madeleine looked up at Allie and beamed, tomato sauce dribbling down her chin. “This is fun!” she said. Luke nodded wildly. He couldn’t speak. He’d just stuffed a huge hunk of pizza into his mouth.

  “Come on, eat.” Stan shoved a slice of pizza at Allie, and she tried to take it without touching his fingers.

  They sat in silence, watching an old movie. Her mom must have paid the cable bill. Allie couldn’t concentrate. All she could do was count every sip of whiskey her mom took. Count sips, and silently beg her mom to stop.

  Please stop drinking...25...please stop drinking...26...please stop drinking...27...

  In no time, their mom was hammered—flopped over the arm of the couch and laughing at Stan’s dumb jokes like he was actually funny. Thankfully, Madeleine and Luke were too busy picking the last of the cheese out of the pizza boxes to notice. If Allie could get them to bed before things got ugly, maybe it would be okay.

  “I’m gonna get more,” Stan said, as he patted his stomach and belched.

  “Please don’t,” Allie blurted out. “Please don’t drink any more, Mommy. We want to come home.”

  Stan got up and staggered toward the door. “I’ll be back,” he said, his voice slurred.

  “Mommy, please stop him.” Tears streamed down Allie’s face. Her mom just sat there, holding her glass and looking confused.

  Allie jumped up and ran to the door, hoping to somehow stop him—hoping to make him think this through.

  “Please, don’t,” she begged.

  “Get out of my way,” Stan said. “This ain’t none of your business.” He picked Allie up by the shoulders and tossed her away from the door like a piece of garbage. Allie smacked into the wall and slid down to the floor. The back of her head throbbed.

  “No!” The twins raced over and frantically grabbed at Allie with their greasy fingers. “Allie! Are you okay?”

  Slam!

  Stan had stormed out of the apartment. Allie and the twins looked at their mom.

  She just sat there, hands shaking as she swallowed the last of her whiskey. “Allie, I’m sorry. I’m really trying. But you can’t cross Stan when he’s been drinking. You gotta learn.”

  Allie stood up carefully, her head spinning. “Come on, guys, time for bed,” she said, in the calmest voice she could fake. “You must be sleepy after all that pizza.”

  As the twins shuffled down the hall to their room, arms wrapped tightly around each other, Allie stopped and looked at her mom. “I, uh, I got my hair cut. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, you look nice.” Her mom smiled sadly, as she fumbled for a cigarette. “I’m sorry Allie. I’m really sorry.”

  Allie walked down the hall to their bedroom, swallowing hard. She climbed into bed between the twins. They were pretending to be asleep, but she knew better. She could hear their raspy breathing. They were crying.

  “Hey guys,” Allie whispered. They both wiggled, to show they were awake.

  “Please don’t tell Stone about this,” Allie said. “I think Mom really wants to get better. I think we can fix this if we don’t tell, okay?”

  “Okay,” Luke said.

  Madeleine hugged Allie hard. “That was scary,” she said. “I don’t like him.”

  “He’s not my favorite, either,” Allie whispered. “But you need to sleep, okay?”

  **

  Allie was having the weirdest dream. A dream about smoke. About coughing. About struggling to breathe. Allie twisted and turned, searching for fresh air. Suddenly, she gasped and sat up in the bed. It wasn’t a dream—she could smell smoke. Allie threw the covers off the bed, searching for the twins. They were gone!

  Panic welled up inside her as she climbed out of bed and staggered into the hallway. The twins were in the apartment. They had to be. Allie tried to call their names, but she couldn’t. Every time she tried to take a breath, she choked. She dropped to her knees and crawled into the living room, feeling around the floor trying to find the twins. Her eyes were burning, her lungs screaming for oxygen.

  Allie slid her hand along the couch, then yanked it away fast. One of the cushions was smoldering. Her mom or that stupid Stan guy must have left a cigarette burning when they went to bed.

  Allie crawled around the room, searching frantically for the twins.

  How could she have been such a bad sister? How could she have let this happen? She was supposed to protect them. How could she be such a failure?

  Her eyes were so watery, she couldn’t see—she kept bumping into furniture, bumping into walls...

  The curtains! Whenever Luke wished he was somewhere else, he’d hide behind those heavy window curtains. He’d stand there for an hour or more, daydreaming while he watched cars go by outside. Allie crawled to the window and desperately grabbed at the scratchy fabric.

  “Allie!” Madeleine and Luke tumbled out, grabbing at her shirt, wrapping their arms around her neck.

  Allie stood up, yanked open the sliding glass door and pushed them out onto the sidewalk. They clung to each other, coughing and wheezing.

  Allie pointed to the nearest streetlight. “Wait there.” Then Allie took a deep breath, ran back into the apartment and headed straight for the couch. She grabbed the smoldering cushion, dragged it outside and threw it on the sidewalk.

  As she stood outside their sliding door, watching the air slowly clear in their apartment, Allie glanced up at the smoke detector. It was dangling down from the living room ceiling, the battery slot empty.

  “Batteries are expensive,” her mom always said.

  As Allie stood staring into their apartment, Luke and Madeleine tiptoed to her side.

  “It doesn’t look too bad, Allie,” Madeleine said, in a shaky voice. “I think we can hide this from that Stone lady. We won’t tell, okay? We’ll make you happy.”

  Madeleine was right. They didn’t have to tell. The smoke was already clearing. If they left the sliding door open all day, and maybe boiled a pot of water and vanilla on the stove for a while, the place wouldn’t smell too bad by 5 o’clock. And the missing couch cushion, well, they could toss a pillow there and put a blanket over top before Stone showed up. They could cover this all up.

  The twins would help, too. They were learning how to play the game. And this was where they belonged, right?

  Allie looked down at the twins, clinging together as they waited for Allie to say something.

  Their mom’s phone was on the coffee table. Allie stepped in, picked it up, and with sha
king fingers dialed 9-1-1.

  When the operator answered, Allie took a deep breath. “We need help,” she said.

  CHAPTER 12

  It was a quiet—very quiet—drive back to the farm.

  “You did the right thing,” Stone said. But she only said it once. And when she didn’t get an answer, at least she had the brains to shut up for the rest of the trip.

  JoJo and Thor were waiting outside when Stone pulled into the driveway. Oddly, Thor didn’t try to tackle them, or stand on them or even lick them. He just walked up to the side of Stone’s car, and when the twins climbed out, he slowly followed them into the house and up the stairs. He looked like a sad, little puppy. A 220-pound sad, little puppy.

  JoJo put her hand on Allie’s shoulder after Stone drove off. “That must have been hard,” she said. Allie blinked, then stared at the ground. JoJo wrapped her arms around Allie and gave her a long hug—and, for the first time ever, Allie hugged a foster parent back.

  “See you tomorrow,” Allie said, with a shaky smile.

  Allie slowly climbed the stairs to their bedroom. She pulled back the covers of her bed, then stopped.

  “Climb in, Allie. There’s lots of room,” Madeleine said, smiling sweetly.

  Allie smirked. “No, there isn’t lots of room, you silly girl.”

  Madeleine, Luke and Thor were already heaped up in her bed. And it was a single bed. If Allie stepped one foot on that thing, it would probably break in half from all the weight.

  “I’ll sleep over there, okay?” Allie pointed at the next bed over.

  Madeleine nodded. “That’ll be good. Thor will be able to see you there, so he won’t get scared.”

  Allie climbed into the empty bed. She stretched her arms and legs as far as she could. It was the first time since the twins were babies that she’d slept alone. She switched off the bedside lamp and watched the moonlight dance on the ceiling as she drifted off to sleep.

  “JoJo, I’ve been thinking,” Allie said, as she flipped through the silly joke book she’d found in the living room. “I might be ready for braces.” JoJo froze—for just a second—then went back to cracking eggs into the hot, buttered pan.

  “We can do that. But I probably won’t be able to get an orthodontist appointment until August. Is that okay?”

  “Sure.” Allie shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  JoJo and Arthur exchanged smiles.

  “I’ll call today,” JoJo said, as she tossed a piece of bacon to Thor.

  Madeleine and Luke came scuttling down the stairs.

  “Just in time for breakfast,” Arthur said. “Come on, have a seat before Jonathan gets in from chores and tries to eat it all.”

  “Not hungry, thanks,” Luke said, as he made a beeline for the door. He was trying hard to keep his pockets covered, and Thor was trotting along beside him, sniffing and wagging his tail.

  Allie caught Luke by the door and peered into his pockets. The smell of spicy sausages and peppers hit her nose. Luke must have snuck down before anyone else was up and crammed his pockets full of last night’s leftovers.

  “Luke, you have to stop that,” Allie whispered. “If they catch you hoarding food, they won’t let us go home.”

  “Silly, Allie. You said this is our home, now.”

  Allie stared at Luke, as it sunk in. Really sunk in. For years, she’d tried to hide the twins’ weird quirks so the social workers would let them go home. But if she’d given up trying to get back there, the twins could be as weird as they wanted.

  “Okay. Out you go!” Allie smiled.

  Luke trotted outside, with Thor in hot pursuit. If that boy could figure out how to eat his sausage and pepper stash without losing his pants to the dog, it would be a miracle.

  BWWWAAAAAAK!

  The sound of a crazed rooster was followed by the sound of someone screaming like a girl. The door crashed open, and Jonathan tumbled in, cradling the egg bucket.

  Bang! He slammed the screen door shut and leaned against the wall, as the rooster strutted back and forth on the porch.

  “You didn’t break any eggs, did you?” Arthur asked.

  “Is that all you care about?” Jonathan asked. His face was so white, even his freckles had lost some of their color. “That stupid rooster keeps trying to kill me, and all you care about is your next meal. If I ever get my hands on that thing, we’re having him for supper.”

  Allie looked at Jonathan and snorted. “Well, you’re quite the witch,” she said. “Where’s your broom?”

  A message from the author:

  If you enjoyed Home, I’d be incredibly grateful if you posted a quick review on Amazon. Even a review of only a few sentences is a great help! Just click here and it will take you directly to the page: http://bookShow.me/B00LRYXNYS

  Thank you!

  Brenda Kearns

  Have any questions?

  You can email me at brenda@brendakearns.com. Or you can find me on Twitter (@Brenda_Kearns).

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  Also by Brenda Kearns:

  The Day I Washed My Face in the Toilet

  Sleepover Zoo

  There’s Nothing Wrong With Claudia

  Parrots and Popcorn

  Ediciones en español:

  El día que me lavé la cara en el inodoro

  Fiesta de pijamas en el zoológico

  No hay nada malo con Claudia

  Pericos y palomitas de maíz

  Éditions françaises:

  Le Jour où je me suis lavé la figure dans la cuvette

  Pyjamazoo

  Claudine ne fait jamais rien de mal

  Pop-corn et perroquets

 

 

 


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