Djinn Read Free Page A

back downstairs. I jumped the last couple of steps and skidded along the kitchen floor, stopping in front of the phone.
    "Kenny?" I said into the receiver. "Dad will be down in a moment."
    "Thanks, Sally."
    I sat back at the table, flicking my pen between my fingers again. Dad stomped down the stairs and pulled his shirt over his head. I just caught a glimpse of some of the many scars on his chest as his shirt came over it. His brown hair stuck out in all directions—even as he patted it down, it sprung back up. He picked up the phone.
    "Hey, Kenny."
    Dad walked off to his room upstairs. He worked as a builder for construction companies wherever we were. It was the type of job where people were always looking for help, so he could easily get a contract in whatever town we stayed.
    I wondered what Kenny wanted with Dad; work didn't usually call on weekends, but I tried to ignore my curiosity and turned back to the first math problem that barely looked like it was written in English.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
    I sat at the kitchen table staring blankly at my homework until the sun had set and Dad came in to turn on a light. I squinted, not realising just how dark it had become. Out the window I could already see the moon rising over the treetops, like a great orb.
    "You can't study in the dark," he said, ruffling my hair. His action would have annoyed me if didn't know it was one of the few ways he showed affection.
    "I can't study at all," I replied, putting down my pen and fixing my hair back into place. Despite the hours I'd spent on the math homework I'd barely done any of the questions. The borders of my page were filled with little doodles of stars and dogs.
    "Time for a break, I think." Dad closed my books and kissed my forehead. "How about some dinner and then we can watch The Karate Kid ?"
    "I'd like that." I smiled, thinking how well he knew me.
    "Right!" He smacked his hands together and rubbed them. "Chicken wraps for dinner?"
    "Sounds great." I stacked my books back in my backpack.
    I helped Dad make the chicken wraps. We worked as a team in the kitchen, as we did in almost everything. Dad chopped and I placed the food in the wraps—we moved like a well-oiled machine. I loved that we always seemed to know what the other was doing, there was no awkward bumping into each other.
    We sat on the couch and Dad put The Karate Kid , original version, into the DVD player. It was one of the few DVDs we owned, and it was my favourite. I used to stand in front of the TV as a kid and copy every lesson the Karate Kid learned.
    Our lounge room was cramped with room for only a double-seater couch, a small coffee table and a TV. The couch was an ugly orange, squishy thing from, like, the 80s.
    Dad liked to get all our furniture from op shops; because we moved so much we only really had room for personal possessions and clothes in Dad's Ute, meaning our big furniture items had to come at a cut-price.
    Dad and I sat together on the couch and I leaned my head on his shoulder as the movie begun. It was funny to think I once hadn't realised how different my life was. For such a long time I'd thought this was what all people's lives were like. They simply moved around the country all the time. It wasn't until I was seven that Dad told me the truth.
    The truth was, we were on the run from people who wanted to hurt Dad any way they could, including by coming after me. That was all I knew.
    Dad had two things he never talked about: why the people were after us, and Mum. I'd asked a lot of questions over the years about who my mother was and why she wasn't with us, but it always seemed to make Dad angry so I just ended up dropping it. I still hoped he would tell me one day. Maybe when I was eighteen.
    Being on the run really wasn't that bad; I suppose I was used to it, though. I always saw new things and met different people. Dad said I was born curious and I always wanted to discover things, no matter