The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Stephen King
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fiction
- Format: PDF /EPUB
- Size: 0.5 MB
- Pages: 320
- Price: Free
First Inning
MOM AND PETE gave it a rest as they got their packs and Quilla’s wicker
plant-collection basket out of the van’s back end; Pete even helped Trisha get her
pack settled evenly on her back, tightening one of the straps, and she had a
moment’s foolish hope that now things were going to be all right.
“Kids got your ponchos?” Mom asked, looking up at the sky. There was still
blue up there, but the clouds were thickening in the west. It very likely would
rain, but probably not soon enough for Pete to have a satisfying whine about
being soaked.
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“I’ve got mine, Mom!” Trisha chirruped in her oh-boy-waterless-cookware
voice.
Pete grunted something that might have been yes.
“Lunches?”
Affirmative from Trisha; another low grunt from Pete.
“Good, because I’m not sharing mine.” She locked the Caravan, then led them
across the dirt lot toward a sign marked TRAIL WEST, with an arrow beneath.
There were maybe a dozen other cars in the lot, all but theirs with out-of-state
plates.
“Bug-spray?” Mom asked as they stepped onto the path leading to the trail.
“Trish?”
“Got it!” she chirruped, not entirely positive she did but not wanting to stop
with her back turned so that Mom could have a rummage. That would get Pete
going again for sure. If they kept walking, though, he might see something
which would interest him, or at least distract him. A raccoon. Maybe a deer. A
dinosaur would be good. Trisha giggled.
“What’s funny?” Mom asked
‘Just me thinks,” Trisha replied, and Quilla frowned “me thinks” was a Larry
McFarland-ism. Well let her frown, Trisha thought. Let her frown all she wants.
I’m with her, and I don’t complain about it like old grouchy there, hut he’s still
my Dad and I still love him.
Trisha touched the brim of her signed cap, as if to prove it.
“Okay, kids, let’s go,” Quilla said. ‘And keep your eyes open.
“I hate this,” Pete almost groaned-it was the first clearly articulated thing he’d
said since they got out of the van, and Trisha thought: Please God, send
something. A deer or a dinosaur or a UFO. Because if You don’t, they’re going
right back at it.
God sent nothing but a few mosquito scouts that would no doubt soon be
reporting back to the main army that fresh meat was on the move, and by the
time they passed a sign reading NO. CONWAY STATION 5.5 mi., the two of
them were at it full-bore again, ignoring the woods, ignoring her, ignoring
everything but each other. Yatata-yatata-yatata. It was, Trisha thought, like some
sick kind of making out.
It was a shame, too, because they were missing stuff that was actually pretty
neat. The sweet, resiny smell of the pines, for instance, and the way the clouds
seemed so close – less like clouds than like draggles of whitish-gray smoke. She
guessed you’d have to be an adult to call something as boring as walking one of
your hobbles, but this really wasn’t bad. She didn’t know if the entire
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