Unaccompanied Minor Read Online Free

bastard.
    Inspector DeAngelo:
    Don’t cuss.
    April Manning:
    “Bastard” is technically not profanity. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard-ass bastard! She tried to lock my bedroom door to keep him away from us, but he kicked the door down. That explains the scar on my arm. The door hit me, threw me against a bookshelf, and broke my commemorative Wonder Woman plate. I woke up in the hospital with a concussion and six stitches in my arm.
    Inspector DeAngelo:
    Didn’t your mom call the police and have him arrested?
    April Manning:
    That’s a good one. The police were called, yes. I recently read the report, which was attached to the recommendation on custody. My mother made the mistake of telling Ash to call 911 while she tended to my injuries. Ash called, all right, but he told them my mother was the one who hurt me. When the police came, it was her word against his. I was unconscious from getting bashed in the head by a door, which made it pretty hard to put in my two cents. The officer took their statements in the emergency room while I was getting stitched up, and since both were claiming abuse against the other, the officer had them both hauled off to jail.
    Wanna know what happens to an unaccompanied minor when she’s released from a hospital emergency room while her mother and stepfather are in prison and all her grandparents are on a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic? She gets thrown into the Fulton County Children’s Shelter, which is just a euphemism for juvenile jail, because that’s where they also throw the runaways, junior druggies, muggers, thieves, and any other criminal under the age of eighteen, male
and
female. It took three days for things to get sorted enough so that I could go home, and I had to spend most of that time barricaded in a utility closet to keep from getting assaulted by a two-hundred-pound seventeen-year-old thug who had decided I was his “bee-otch.”
    After that, Ash called 911 on my mother all the time. It was his favorite thing to do. The police would be at our door in minutes, Ash would make up some complaint and demand they write a report. When my bedroom door was replaced, he put the lock on the outside of the door. That’s how he started locking us up. I used to have to climb out the window and onto the porch roof to get out of the house. Then I couldn’t get back inside, so suddenly I was a runaway and it was all my mom’s fault, according to that crazy bitch the guardian ad litem.
    Investigator DeAngelo:
    Cussing.
    April Manning:
    “Bitch” is not profanity. They say it on television all the time. Even daytime TV.
    Anyway, Ash thought it would do me good to let me lie alone, crying in the dark. Also, it wasn’t until she married him that we began celebrating Easter Sundays again. Until then we ignored Easter. The purpose was to try to keep me from remembering things. It was a diversionary tactic employed by my mother. Ash thought it was ridiculous and was certain it wouldn’t work. He was half right; it didn’t work. I still remembered that my real father died on Easter. But I didn’t think it was ridiculous. Like I said, diversionary tactics have their purpose.
    Speaking of diversionary tactics, I really think they should include ways to recognize the difference between smoke bombs and actual bombs in the “Explosive Device Recognition” guide in the WorldAir flight attendant manual, which is like my bible. But like with the real Bible, I still have my criticisms of it. I will probably expound on those later, but for now, according to the “Explosive Device Recognition” section, the list of things to look for in a suspicious device is:
Power source
Initiator
Explosive (of course)
Sensor
    It’s in the security section of the handbook, which is written out all in lists. I am very big on lists. And by the way, I was told to be as specific as possible in this account, which explains the rambling details. So I am simply complying with orders.
    See? I am