Runaways Read Online Free Page A

They should work for what they get,” Gordon blasted at her before turning to us, his eyes fixed like two laser beams. “I don’t ever want to hear complaints.”
    Chores were rotated. None of us four had to do kitchen work this weekend. We stepped into the dining room, a long, wide room with the biggest windows and the only windows that had new blinds because this was where the state people were entertained when they came. We saw Meg Callaway running the food line. A few long tables wereplaced together at the other end of the room and all of us walked by, filling our plates. Meg was fifteen, tall and gangly, with braces that looked like car bumpers on her teeth. Crystal said she could be the daughter of Ichabod Crane from Sleepy Hollow. She read the description of him that said he had a neck so long and a nose so long, he looked like someone had perched a weather vane on his shoulders.
    Meg was always trying to get in with us, be one of us, but whatever chemistry existed among us didn’t exist in her. She was sneaky and conniving and full of so much jealousy and envy that Raven said her eyes had to be green no matter what. She was always whispering and trying to turn one of us against the other. She spread rumors like fertilizer in a garden hoping to grow conflicts and make herself look like everyone’s hero. No one really liked her, but many were afraid if they didn’t pretend to be friendly, they would be the object of some mischief. Twice last week, I had caught her taking stuff from younger kids.
    â€œHere comes Goldilocks and the three bears,” she quipped as we approached the food table. She studied Butterfly a moment and then her lips thinned and hinged at the corners to form her icy smile. “Why was Goldilocks crying now? Someone pour glue into her dancing shoes?”
    â€œCome outside after breakfast and I’ll show you why she was crying,” I said. Her smile quickly evaporated. She turned to one of the ten-year-olds assisting her.
    â€œGet more toast, I told you,” she said and avoided looking at me.
    We took our food to our table.
    â€œWhy is it these rolls are so hard?” I muttered.Crystal finished her orange juice and signaled with her eyes so the four of us drew closer.
    â€œI overheard a conversation between Grandma Kelly and Gordon yesterday when I was working on the computer. Grandma was complaining that he was buying two-day-old bread because it’s cheaper. She said she knew he was not buying the best grades of meat too. He denied it and told her to mind her own business. She said the food was her business and he said maybe she should think about retirement.”
    â€œThe creep,” Raven said, her eyes fiery.
    â€œI don’t want Grandma Kelly to retire,” Butterfly said mournfully. She almost always looked down quickly after she spoke as if she were afraid of what reactions her words would create in listeners. Her foster mother had to have been a tyrant.
    â€œDon’t worry, she’s not,” I told her. “Doesn’t anyone check on him, check on how he uses the money that’s supposed to be spent for us?” I asked Crystal.
    She shrugged and thought a moment.
    â€œBills are doctored, I suppose, or deals are made under the table with suppliers.”
    â€œWe oughta turn him in,” I said. The four of us were still crouched over our trays, whispering. It felt like a conspiracy.
    â€œIf we didn’t put our names on the complaints, he would accuse Grandma of doing it now that she has complained to him,” Crystal pointed out. “And I don’t think any of us want to sign anything against Gordon Tooey.”
    As if on cue, Gordon entered the dining room. Almost immediately, the din diminished. He panned the room as if he were looking for an intruder, his dark eyes just narrow slits, his bighands on his hips. He wore a white long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his bulging