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"Why not?"

I looked at her, wondering what she would say.

"Her great-aunt got suspicious and found one of the alcopops we missed. She said she wouldn't tell anybody if we promised never to have a secret party down there again."

"Oh. That's too bad." Nikki said.

"Sucks." Raspberry added.

"We'll figure out another place soon. Don't worry," Alanis told them.

I didn't say anything, but all the while I kept my gaze on the table and my food. Alanis swims in a pool of lies, I thought. She even has to lie to her, friends. I didn't know how to express it then, but in my heart of hearts, I knew she lied even to herself.

When we arrived home that afternoon. Greataunt Frances invited us to watch the soap opera she had described to me my first day. I wanted to get to another letter from Ian and then right to my

homework so I could do better than I had. Alanis decided to watch television. We both saw that Greataunt

Frances hadn't cleaned up after lunch. Jars were still open, and dishes were still on the table. Alanis said she would take care of it.

Taking advantage of the opportunity for privacy. I hurried up to Grandmother Emma's room and took out Ian's bag of letters. Then I sat on the floor with my back to the bed and opened the next one.

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Dear Jordan,

As you know I don't form friendships easily. I find friends to be a distraction and most of the time, a waste of my time, but I have formed a friendship with another boy here because he needs me. They have been telling him that he is eating away at himself harming himself cutting- himself even burning himself He has marks all over his legs and his arms.

I studied them carefully and I had to inform him that he is being attacked daily by Cimex lectularius, more well known as bedbugs. I explained how they don't fly but they can move over floors, walls and ceilings rapidly. They lay whitish eggs about the size of a dust particle so they can't be seen without a microscope. He didn't realize who they were because as they grow they shed their skin five times. He was shocked to learn that they are disguised as the janitors and cleaning ladies here. While he is asleep, they feed on him. I explained how their bites are impossible to feel.

Yesterday, he refused to come out of his room and he wouldn't let any of the cleaning personnel into it. They forced him out and then they took him upstairs and gave him some medication, I'm sure. I haven't seen him for two days, but I realized if they didn't have him to feed upon, they might start on me, so I stuffed my blanket and some paper under the door and blocked every possible opening. It might not work.

I told Dr. Walker about it and he promised he would keep them away from me. But this morning I found a bite on my arm. I'll try to write to you faster. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to before they take me upstairs, too. If my letters stop coming, you will know it happened.

And you will know it our Grandmother's fault.

Ian

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I quickly opened the next letter.

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Dear Jordan,

I have made an incredible breakthrough.

I have found a way to speak to our mother. I have been working on developing this skill for a long time, even before I was brought here, but ironically it is because I was brought here and left alone so much that I have been able to complete my effort to achieve what is called telepathy. I know it a big word for you and you will be scared that you won't understand, but I'll make it simple. It means talking with only your brain. You think and the other person hears it. It's like sending- a radio signal. You know you can hear the radio but you can't see the signal.

To do this you have to be able to concentrate so hard your brain is sending out the words through the air. Because Mother is in a coma, she can't talk and this is the only -way she can be heard and only someone like me who has developed the ability to do telepathy can hear her.

Don't worry.I'll tell youwhat she says and what she wants you to know and to do, okay?

After I speak with her and tell her everything, I'll listen to what she has to say and I'll write it down and send it to you.

Ian

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Tags: V.C. Andrews Early Spring Horror