"Replica20 - Like Father, Like Son - Kaye, Marilyn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kaye Marilyn)

Marilyn Kaye: Like Father, Like Son (Replica #20)





1



In the Candler living room, Amy sat on the floor, pointed the remote control at the TV, and began clicking. Her friend Chris Skinner observed the flickering screen from his position on the sofa and made various comments in response to the passing images.

"Yuck. Gross. No way. Keep moving."

There were more than a hundred channels on the Candlers' new cable system, but there never seemed to be anything worth watching. Finally, Amy settled on old reliable MTV.

"It's Total Request Live," she announced. "Okay?"

Chris made a noise that signified approval. Amy looked over her shoulder at the third person in the room. "Tasha? You want to watch TRL?"

"Sure, whatever. Can I use your phone to call home and tell my mother I'm here?"

"Of course," Amy said, though it would have been just as easy for Tasha to stick her head out the door and yell. The Morgan family lived right next door. "Chris, you want to call home?"

"Call where?"

Amy flushed. She wasn't sure how to refer to the place where Chris was currently living. Foster care had such a negative sound. She didn't even know what to call the adults who lived there. Foster parents Ч that wasn't exactly an upbeat phrase either.

She rephrased her offer. "I'm just saying, you can use the phone if you want to call the Martins."

"Nah, I don't have to do that." Chris wouldn't take his eyes off the video currently running on the screen.

Amy frowned. Britney Spears wasn't all that cute, and personally Amy thought the singer dressed in a pretty trashy way. "Seriously," she persisted, "you don't want them to start worrying about you. You've only been there Ч how long?"

"Ten days," Chris said, his eyes still glued to the singer's gyrating body. "Really, it's okay. I don't need to call them if I don't go straight back there from school. They're not the worrying kind."

He didn't even shift his eyes from the screen to glance at Amy while he spoke to her. She decided to make it her mission to see if she could distract him from Britney.

"What do you mean, 'not the worrying kind'? They're not neglectful, are they? Chris, tell me the truth! Do they abuse you?"

He finally looked at her, but it was a hollow victory. On the television, the teen queen had been replaced by a commercial for mint-flavored dental floss.

"No, they don't abuse me and they don't neglect me," Chris assured Amy. "I get the regular meals, clean sheets and towels, everything I need."

"But does it feel like a home?" It was a foolish question. Chris couldn't even remember ever having had a real home, so he wouldn't know.

He shrugged in reply. "It's better than a shelter."

"Do you feel like they care about you?" Amy asked hopefully.