I thought for a moment. This wasn't that much bigger a unit than ours. Where would his parents sleep if his grandmother lived here. too?

"How about something cold to drink, dear?" she asked, coming to the door of his room. "Or perhaps you would like to stay to dinner with us. I have a pot roast."

"No, thank you. My mother must be wondering where I am. I have to get home." I said, joining her in the hall.

"Oh, well, please don't be a stranger." she said.

"My grandmother was a famous poet," Augustus said quickly. "Oh, stop," she told him.

"Her poems are still reprinted in many magazines. and she is often asked to do readings of her works. The groups that ask her to read don't understand the poems, but they think themselves intellectuals for asking her and listening and nodding their heads. Right Granny?"

"Don't listen to him." she said, a blush coming into her cheeks.

"She plays guitar, too, and writes songs. She was at Woodstock. Do you know what that was?"

"Yes," I said, looking at her more closely. She had a pretty face and wore no makeup at all, not even lipstick. Now I saw the necklace of precious stones around her neck.

"My grandmother was a hippie. She still is. She refuses to accept her AARP card and never takes senior citizen discounts."

"I simply don't understand why merely getting alder entitles people to anything extra. We should be giving the discounts to teachers and nurses and social workers."

"Celebrities care only about themselves. Heroes care about others," he recited. "Right. Granny?"

"Yes," she said.

There was a moment of silence.

"I've got to get back to work," Augustus said. "See you at the pond," he added. 'Don't forget to listen,"

He turned and went back into his room, closing the door.

His grandmother smiled at me as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with that.

"I'd better get home," I said, and walked to the patio door. She followed and opened it for me.

"It's very nice of you to be friends with Augustus," she told me. "He has no friends. really. He's a brilliant boy. He's already achieved his high school diploma and is in home study, so he doesn't meet many people his age."

You mean he doesn't attend a school?"

"Not in the ordinary way. He's in a special program. Once a week he goes to see his mentor. They expect big things from him."

"Why does he say his parents act as if he doesn't exist?"

"Is that what he said?" she asked. I nodded. She sighed deeply. "His parents have been dead for more than five years. A horrible, horrible car accident. You of all people know how devastating that can be, so don't blame him for whatever he creates to contend with it." She smiled. -Please give, your mother my regards and best wishes. Tell her if there is anything I can do to help you two, please don't hesitate to call. I'm in the telephone book. Clarissa Darahush," she added, smiled, and closed the patio door,

Dorahush? But I thought Augustus said...

For a moment I stood there and looked at her standing in the patio door window, and then I hurried away, a little terrified by what the pain of deep sorrow could do, even to someone with Augustus's incredible mind.

.

Phoebe Tremont finally called. When the phone rang I was hoping it was Trent, hoping he had finally been given the message. I practically lunged for the receiver.

"Is this. uh, Tracy?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Wait a minute," she said in an annoyed tone of voice, "Oh, Gracey."

Tags: V.C. Andrews De Beers Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net