“Evan asked his aunt, writing the question on a pad of lined yellow paper he had found on the desk in his room. Kathryn read the question while adjusting her black ponytail. Her face was as white as cake flour in the morning sunlight filtering through the kitchen window. “Pie? What pie?” she replied coldly. Evan’s mouth dropped open. He decided not to remind her. “Go play with your friends,” Kathryn said, still coldly, petting Sarabeth’s head as the black cat walked by the breakfast table. “Why ...do you want to stay inside with an old witch?” It was three days later. Evan had tried to be friendly with his aunt. But the more he tried, the colder she had become. She’s mean. She’s really mean, he thought, as he ate the last spoonful of cereal from his bowl of shredded wheat. That was the only cereal she had. Evan struggled to choke it down every morning. Even with milk, the cereal was so dry and she wouldn’t even let him put sugar on it. “Looks like it might rain,” Kathryn said, and took a long sip of the strong tea she had brewed.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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