Free The Unwelcomed Child by V. C. Andrews Page A

but didn’t pull up the towel. I looked down quickly.
    “What birthday was it?” Claudine asked.
    “My fifteenth,” I said.
    “Fifteen? I would have said seventeen,” Mason said. “We’re seventeen.”
    “I’m four minutes more than your seventeen,” she told him.
    “So you’ll die four minutes before I do.”
    “If we die on the same day,” she replied.
    “We were born on the same day, weren’t we?”
    “Don’t be stupid. You’re making a bad impression on the forest nymph.”
    “I’m not a forest nymph,” I said.
    “I don’t mean nymphomaniac,” she said. “Unless, of course, you are one.”
    Mason slapped her a little bit harder than playfully, and she slapped him back.
    “You’re the one making the bad impression,” he told her. He looked really upset.
    She looked at me and reconsidered.
    “Sorry. Actually, I meant I was sure you were a virgin. You have that virginal air about you.”
    “What?” I knew what it meant, but the only time I had ever heard the word spoken was in reference to the Virgin Mary. Was it proper to say the word in front of a male?
    “Of course, maybe I’m wrong. Most of the girls who have lost their innocence in our school act in public like they haven’t gone further than a peck on the cheek. Do you go to school here? I can’t imagine it being much of a school.”
    “My sister’s picture is next to the word snob in the dictionary,” Mason said. “We attend a private school.”
    “No, I don’t go to the school here. Yet,” I added.
    “Where do you go?” she asked, a slightly amused smile on her face. “You go to a private school, too?”
    “No. I’m in homeschooling.”
    “Homeschooling?” She looked at Mason. He looked a little shocked. “Aren’t you too old for that?”
    “I’m probably going to the public school this year,” I said.
    They both stared at me as if they had trouble understanding or digesting my words.
    “I keep forgetting where we are,” she said. “Around here, I bet the iPhone means I’ll call you.”
    “The what?”
    “See?”
    “Will you stop?” he said.
    She stuck her tongue out at him and then turned back to me. “You didn’t get that watch for your birthday, did you?” she asked, nodding at Grandfather Prescott’s watch on my wrist.
    “No. It’s my grandfather’s. I don’t have a watch.”
    “You don’t have a watch? Do you have electricity, indoor bathrooms?”
    “Claudine! Stop picking on her,” Mason said.
    “I’m not picking on her. Who doesn’t have a watch these days?”
    “Plenty of people who need money for food. You know the percentage of people in poverty these days?”
    “Oh, you’re so pedantic. Don’t let him start one of his speeches,” she told me. “He’ll wear down your ears.”
    “Those couldn’t have been your parents with you at the restaurant the other night, right?” Mason asked.
    “No. They’re my grandparents.”
    “Why weren’t your parents there?” Claudine asked.
    I didn’t reply.
    “Do you live with your grandparents?” she asked me quickly, as if she had just discovered something very important.
    “Yes,” I said.
    “Do your parents live there, too?” Mason asked.
    I shook my head.
    “I bet they’re divorced. Is that it?” Claudine asked.
    “No.”
    “Did one or both pass away?” Mason asked.
    “I have to go,” I said. I backed away.
    “Hey, let’s see what you drew,” he said.
    “It’s nothing,” I said. “I’ve got to go. I can’t be late.”
    “Why not? Is it a very important date, Alice? I’m late. I’m late for a very important date. Alice!” Claudine shouted.
    “My name is Elle,” I said, and she laughed. “Don’t call me Alice. I didn’t fall down a hole.”
    I started walking quickly, still holding my pad tightly against my breasts.
    “Come on back tomorrow,” he called after me. “We’ll pick you up in the rowboat.”
    I glanced back. They were both standing there looking after me. Claudine poked him, and he