The Wild Kid Read Online Free Page A

watch up to the light. Yesterday, right now, he was home. He was talking to Bethan, trying to climb into her room.
    Kevin was eating a Pop-Tart and drinking from a plastic water bottle.
    Sammy lay down on the plank. He turned from one side to the other. He couldn’t get comfortable. Sammy wished he could go to sleep and wake up in his own bed. He lay on his back like Kevin with his knees bent. He reached up to the ceiling with his feet. He could almost touch it. When he sat up and put his hands over his head, he could touch it.
    Kevin was looking at him. “What are you doing?”
    â€œNothing.” Sammy put his hands down and examined them, finger by finger. They were all scratched up and dirty. Kevin had no sink in his house, no faucet; no water, even. When she saw him, his mother would wash his hands and face for him. “People see your dirty face and they say you’re a dirty boy. Are you a dirty boy, Sammy?” She liked to wash him, and he only minded when his friends were over.
    â€œI’ve got to pee,” he said.
    â€œHold it,” Kevin said.
    â€œI can’t. I’ve been holding it too long.”
    Kevin gave him a hateful look. He got up and pushed Sammy out through the narrow opening. “Don’t do it around here. And don’t get any ideas. I’m watching you.”
    Sammy found a tree a few steps from the cave. It was a relief to be outside and on his feet.
    â€œHurry up!” Kevin said.
    â€œI’m really thirsty,” Sammy said when they went back in. He sat down on the bench again.
    Kevin pointed to a row of plastic water bottles. “Take one. That’s yours,” he said. “It gets empty, you fill it up.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. You’ll find out.” Kevin opened a metal trunk and took out a box of Pop-Tarts. Sammy smelled them and moved closer. Kevin pushed him away. “Stay on your side!” He ate a Pop-Tart and threw away the box.
    It was empty except for some crumbs that Sammy licked up. He drank from his water bottle, then sat there, holding it in his arms.

9

    That night, Kevin tied Sammy up and went out. He left Sammy lying on the ground. It was darker than dark. It was the darkest dark Sammy had ever been in. Darker than being in a closet with the door closed.
    There were sounds all around him. Crinkly sounds, like somebody walking toward him. They stopped, and another sound started, like papers being torn into little pieces. He listened; he listened so hard, he thought his ears got as big as TV dishes. Something was moving from one place to another. Inside? Snakes? Sammy drew his head in. He wished he was a turtle and could pull his whole self into a safe little house.
    â€œOh, Mom, where are you?” There was comfort in hearing a voice, any voice. It was his own, Sammy’s voice. Kevin said he had to be quiet, but he was talking, anyway.
    â€œI want to go home. I want to see my mother. I want to see Bethan, my sister. I want to go home.” He said it loud. Then louder. Then he shouted it. “I WANT TO GO HOME.”
    *  *  *
    He slept and woke. Hunger kept waking him up. His stomach was eating him. It was so dark, sometimes he didn’t know if he was asleep or awake or where the dark ended and he started. He closed his eyes. It was better to sleep. Sleep, he told himself. Maybe this time, he’d wake up in the right place, his own place, in his own bed.
    *  *  *
    Sammy was asleep when Kevin returned. Kevin’s flashlight woke him. “Kevin?”
    â€œDon’t call me that.” Kevin flashed the light in Sammy’s eyes, then all around. “Don’t call me that, never, ever.” He lit a candle. “Call me that and I’ll kill you.”
    â€œI’ll never call you that,” Sammy said.
    â€œI hate the name Kevin.”
    â€œMe, too,” Sammy said.
    The wild kid untied him, then lay down on the