SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 Read Free

happened?”
    “What do you think?” She sighed. “Now things are even worse with my dad at the police department. He’s got every one of those cops fooled.”
    I didn’t know what to say. Lissa’s father was a policeman, too, so he was supposed to be one of the good guys.
    Lissa’s words interrupted my thoughts. “If caseworkers get involved,” she added, “they’ll eventually send me back home, and he’ll beat me up again.”
    My throat turned to cotton.
    “I hate my dad.” Tears spilled down her cheek. “And Mom, too, for not making it stop.”
    I wanted to wave a wand and make things better for my friend. “I’m so sorry,” I said, determined more than ever to take care of her.
    Abruptly, Lissa stood up, reaching for the shower door. “He’ll never hit me again.” By the cold stiffness in her voice, I knew the conversation was over.

Chapter
4
    Frustrated and terribly worried, I mentioned breakfast. Lissa needed something nourishing, but I had only enough time to grab some juice and sticky buns.
    While in the kitchen, I filled the cats’ dishes with their favorite tuna food. They crowded around, nosing their way into the breakfast delight.
    I washed my hands before putting three sticky buns—two for Lissa, one for me—and two glasses of orange juice on a tray. Then I headed up the back stairs.
    Lissa was sitting on the bed admiring my wall gallery when I came into the room. “When did you start taking pictures?” She studied a tall picture of a willow tree in the springtime.
    I set the tray down on the bed. “I won a cheap camera for selling the most Girl Scout cookies in first grade,” I explained. “Taking pictures started out as a hobby, but somehow it’s become an obsession.”
    “Your shots are great,” she said, reaching for a glass of juice.
    I gathered up my books and found my digital camera, one of three cameras in my collection, lying on the desk near the window.
    “Taking more pictures today?” she asked.
    “I like to have a camera handy at all times. You never know when a picture might present itself.”
    A pensive smile crossed Lissa’s face.
    “Let’s pray before I catch the bus,” I suggested.
    Lissa seemed surprised. “Why?”
    “Because I care about you. And God does, too.”
    She smiled weakly, then nodded her consent.
    After the prayer, Lissa wiped her eyes. “That was sweet, Merry. My grandmother talks to God, too. I wish I could be more like her…and you.”
    “I don’t always do the right thing.” After all, how smart is harboring a runaway? “Don’t forget to lock this door when I leave.” I grabbed the sticky bun and bit into the sugary bread. Then I washed it down with a long drink of orange juice. My mother would worry if she knew I hadn’t had a full breakfast today. Oh well, what was one day?
    I glanced in the mirror again. “Maybe we should call your grandmother after school. Someone in your family ought to know you’re safe.”
    “I guess I should call,” Lissa agreed. “But I don’t want Grandma to know where I am.”
    I thought of the years of abuse Lissa must have endured and nodded my consent.
    “You’re a true friend, Merry.” She sat on my bed like a wistful statue as I turned to go.

    The school bus was crowded and noisy as usual. I slid in beside Chelsea Davis, another friend from school. She glanced up momentarily, said, “Hey, Mer,” then resumed her frantic cramming.
    Her thick auburn hair hung halfway down her back. It nearly covered her face on the side facing me. I pulled back the curtain of her shining tresses. “Wilson’s test?” I asked, smiling.
    “You got it.” She didn’t look up.
    Kids jostled against the seats and the doors swooshed shut. Ignoring the clamor, I centered my thoughts on Lissa’s hideous bruises. Why hadn’t she told me before that her father could be abusive? I shivered, thinking about the horrible scenes at Lissa’s house, surely multiplied many times over. Outraged, I was determined to