Read The Risen (Book 2): Margaret for Free Online

mocks the true feelings of its inhabitants.
    We are selected by grade level as to which classes earn the privilege of going first. Days like this is when being in kindergarten is not as much fun as people had let on. Our cuteness can only save us from so much. Adding the double whammy of Mrs. Lamb having sat on the very bottom of the many tilted benches, forcing our class to line up first, is just depressing. Being the second child in line, that is just unfair.
    Why, oh why, didn’t I take the back of the line when I had the chance? I ask myself.
    Our steps are the smallest they might have ever been in our short lives as we march to the waiting principal. He stands with folded arms and no welcoming posture at all. His eyes bounce over each child and I know he is taking count of how many are lined up before him for whatever reason. His lips are pressed together so tightly that they are losing coloring from the pressure. His cold, business-like demeanor is an extreme opposite of the smiling mascot’s face he stands on that welcomed us into the room. He has never been the spokesperson of hugs and comfort, but now, he even steals the joy from nightmares.
    There are no more words. No more speeches. No warnings of what is to come. There is just his sharp voice asking our names and marking it from the many crisp white pages on his clipboard. We are to stand beside him as the child before us sits in a chair beside Miss Lacey to receive their vaccine until his pen points us forward. At least that was the plan in his head. Teddy has a different plan in his head.
    “Name?” His eyes do not even glance at Teddy, but prepare to play hunt the name on the sheets. The game never starts though.
    “Name?” He calls again. This time his eyes do look over the clipboard, but they are still waiting to play. “Son, what is your name?”
    Teddy’s voice and legs are locked as he watches the shot being pulled from its plastic prison. The smell of the awaiting alcohol wipe already perfumes the air with a stomach-turning scent. The class clown is now the class leader and he is not finding any of it funny.
    Fearing the reaction of our principal’s “no nonsense” attitude, Mrs. Lamb rushes to the front of the line. Her shoes click against the gym floor in her haste to save Teddy from the cold words that may fall upon his already frayed nerves at any moment. She whispers soft words into his ear from a kneeling position that stir minor reactions from him, but he is still not moving forward or offering his name.
    His fingers drum against his pants leg as he debates her words. There is no way out of what is ahead of him, but his face shows he is thinking of his options of what to do anyway. His wide eyes show he is in no hurry to believe whatever is being whispered into his ear and the principal’s tapping toe shows that he has no patience for the delay. With an adjustment to the clipboard and his posture, I know that Teddy has run out of time. That is when I hear something I never thought I would. Ever.
    “Margaret Erikson.” I hear my voice betray me. “My name is Margaret Erikson.”
    I never really offered to go first, but with a brisk swipe of a pen, I am pointed forward. With a gentle reassuring squeeze of my shoulders, I am motioned forward. With a drop of my stomach, I walk forward. I don’t think my brain really thought this whole plan out at all.
    Teddy owes me his cookies. For real. Is the pout-filled thought that fills my head.
    We are always told to “not look”. Don’t look at the wreck outside the car window. Don’t look at the TV when the music gets scary. Don’t look under the bed at night. Don’t look in the closet after the lights are turned off. Basically, don’t look at the monsters. Now the monster is a capped, pointed metal cylinder and I can’t stop looking at it.
    “It helps if you don’t look.” Miss Lacey’s voice hovers over my panic, repeating the very words I was just mentally debating.
    “That’s