Truly Devious by Maureen Johnson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Maureen Johnson
- ISBN: 978-0062338068
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Thrillers & Suspense, Teen & Young Adult Ghost Stories, Teen & Young Adult Mysteries & Detective Stories
- Format: PDF/ePub
- Size: 1 MB
- Page: 448
- Price: Free
“THE MOOSE IS A LIE,” STEVIE BELL SAID.
Her mother turned to her, looking like she often looked—a bit tired,
forced to engage in whatever Stevie was about to say out of parental
obligation.
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“What?” she said.
Stevie pointed out the window of the coach.
“See that?” Stevie indicated a sign that simply read MOOSE. “We’ve
passed five of those. That’s a lot of promises. Not one moose.”
“Stevie . . .”
“They also promised falling rocks. Where are my falling rocks?”
“Stevie . . .”
“I’m a strong believer in truth in advertising,” Stevie said.
This resulted in a long pause. Stevie and her parents had had many
conversations about the nature of truth and fact, and this might, on another
day, have erupted into an argument. Not today. They seemed to decide,
through some mutual and unspoken agreement, that they would let the
matter slide along.
It wasn’t every day you moved away from home to go to boarding
school, after all.
“I don’t like that we’re not allowed to drive up to the campus,” her
father said, for what was probably the eighth time that morning.
Ellingham’s information packet had been very clear on this point: DO NOT
ATTEMPT TO DRIVE STUDENTS TO THE SCHOOL. YOU WILL BE
FORCED TO LEAVE THEM AT THE ROADSIDE GATE. NO
EXCEPTIONS WILL BE MADE.
There was nothing nefarious in this—the reason was well explained.
The campus had not been designed for lots of cars. There was only a single
road in, and there was no place to park. To get in or out, you rode in the
Ellingham coach. Her parents had viewed this dimly, as if a place hard to
reach by car was somehow inherently suspicious and impinged on their
God-given American freedom to drive anywhere they wanted to.
Rules were rules, though, so the Bells were seated in this coach—a
quality one with a dozen seats, tinted windows, and a video screen that did
nothing but faintly mirror the window reflection back again. An older,
silver-haired man was at the wheel. He had not spoken since he had picked
them up at the rest stop fifteen minutes before, and even then all he said
was, “Stephanie Bell?” and “Sit where you want. No one else in there.”
Stevie had heard about this famous Vermont reticence, and that they called
outsiders flatlanders, but there was something spooky about his silence.
“Look,” her mom said quietly, “if you change your mind . . .”
Stevie gripped the side of her seat. “I’m not going to change my mind.
We’re here. Almost.”
“I’m just saying . . .” her mother said, and then she stopped saying it.
This was another well-trod conversation. The morning was full of greatest
hits and little new material.
Stevie looked back out as the view of the mystically blue Vermont
skyline disappeared, eaten by the trees and the walls of sheer rock where
the road cut through the mountains.
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