Foreign Enemies And Traitors
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To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
“I’m supposed to stay behind to watch the house. And besides, you know I’ve got nothing to sell or trade.” Jenny McClure was almost a head taller than her visitor. She was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and several oversized men’s sweaters piled on top. Tussled straw-blond hair spilled over her shoulders. In the front, her hair was cut in bangs that stopped just above light cinnamon-colored eyes. “That’s no excuse, girlfriend. Come on with me, we’ll have fun.”... “I don’t feel like walking two miles for nothing.” Jenny yawned and stretched, extending her arms and rolling her shoulders. “Jenny, the sun is shining, and that’s a rare thing lately. Come on, Hope Baptist puts out soup and fresh bread on Saturdays. That’s worth a little walk, ain’t it?” “Not to me. Anyway, I can’t. I told my uncle I didn’t want to go to church just to get free soup, and he said, fine, stay home then. If I don’t go to church, I can’t go to the market. It wouldn’t be right. And I still have to fetch today’s water. Twenty gallons, that’s my job.” “Oh come on, he doesn’t own you, you’re not his slave. Don’t make me walk up there by myself. Listen, if you go, the boys will check you out—they always do. Then I might get noticed just by accident. I’ll take your rejects any day.” Jenny blushed, trying not to smile. Her friend Sue Bledsoe wasn’t exactly pretty, that was true enough. Pretty or not, she was unfailingly cheerful, considering the hard times. She’d lost her chubbiness over the last hungry year, but she still wasn’t pretty, with her curly red hair, round face, and an overabundance of freckles. Cute maybe, sort of. Not that looks counted for much anymore. What mattered were practical things like food, firewood, and gasoline. Especially food. Jenny’s blond hair and eyes the color of wild honey wouldn’t fetch any of those items—not unless she was willing to trade more than a pretty smile. Sleeping with somebody might win her a few good meals. It might buy her temporary protection under the roof of some single man, but that was about all.Now Jenny had enough protection, here at her aunt and uncle’s house on Ben Duggin Road. The road ended in a loop, where a developer had built twenty modern homes on one-acre lots. The rest of Duggin Road was taken up with a mixed lot of trailers, small farms, and older homes. Uncle Henry, a former Marine Corps captain, was a popular leader of the neighborhood defense team. Their house was well situated near the end of the loop, which was almost a half mile back from County Road 144. No one could come into their isolated neighborhood without passing scrutiny at Duggin Road’s single entrance. A palisade wall of ten-foot-high sharpened pine logs had been erected on either side of Duggin Road where it met the county road at a T intersection. The opening was the width of one vehicle. At night, a junker panel van filled with dirt and topped with barbed wire was pushed across the single narrow entry and chained in place at both ends. No stranger casually approached Duggin Road. As long as Jenny was under the protection of her aunt and uncle, she had no need to meet any other men, and certainly not teenage boys with only one thing on their minds.So she replied, “Boys? I don’t care about any boys—not unless they’ve got rich daddies. Rich enough to get me right the hell out of Tennessee. What good are boys? Anyway, it’s not too bad here. I get fed. I’m just so tired of being cold and hungry and dirty, that’s all.”“Well, who isn’t? You should count your blessings. You’re lucky you had kin here, folks willing to take you in. Lots of refugees didn’t have anybody at all.”“Somehow I don’t feel lucky. Not with all that’s happened.” Like losing her family after the Memphis earthquakes, for starters.“You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re not the only one who’s suffered. Jenny, I refuse to let you drag me down. It’s too nice a day.” Sue Bledsoe lifted her arms and forced a wan smile. “Make hay while the sun shines, didn’t you ever hear that? Well, it’s Saturday, the sun is shining, and everybody for miles around is going up to Mannville for the swap market. Come on, try smiling once in a while—it’s free and it doesn’t hurt. Have some fun when you can. Life goes on, Jenny McClure, and you have to keep living too.”“This isn’t living—this is just surviving.”“Welcome to reality.”“Reality sucks. I’m too dirty. My hair is revolting…and I smell like a hound dog.”Sue Bledsoe stared at her friend for a moment and then said, “This was going to be a surprise for later on, but look what I found.” She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Two quarters and three dimes. Old ones—real silver.”“Where’d you get all that money? You steal it? Who had it?”“Nobody had it. I found it.”“Oh, sure you did,”
What to read after Foreign Enemies And Traitors?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Matthew Bracken to read onlineMoreLess
To quickly assess the difficulty of the text, read a short excerpt:
“I’m supposed to stay behind to watch the house. And besides, you know I’ve got nothing to sell or trade.” Jenny McClure was almost a head taller than her visitor. She was wearing baggy gray sweatpants and several oversized men’s sweaters piled on top. Tussled straw-blond hair spilled over her shoulders. In the front, her hair was cut in bangs that stopped just above light cinnamon-colored eyes. “That’s no excuse, girlfriend. Come on with me, we’ll have fun.”... “I don’t feel like walking two miles for nothing.” Jenny yawned and stretched, extending her arms and rolling her shoulders. “Jenny, the sun is shining, and that’s a rare thing lately. Come on, Hope Baptist puts out soup and fresh bread on Saturdays. That’s worth a little walk, ain’t it?” “Not to me. Anyway, I can’t. I told my uncle I didn’t want to go to church just to get free soup, and he said, fine, stay home then. If I don’t go to church, I can’t go to the market. It wouldn’t be right. And I still have to fetch today’s water. Twenty gallons, that’s my job.” “Oh come on, he doesn’t own you, you’re not his slave. Don’t make me walk up there by myself. Listen, if you go, the boys will check you out—they always do. Then I might get noticed just by accident. I’ll take your rejects any day.” Jenny blushed, trying not to smile. Her friend Sue Bledsoe wasn’t exactly pretty, that was true enough. Pretty or not, she was unfailingly cheerful, considering the hard times. She’d lost her chubbiness over the last hungry year, but she still wasn’t pretty, with her curly red hair, round face, and an overabundance of freckles. Cute maybe, sort of. Not that looks counted for much anymore. What mattered were practical things like food, firewood, and gasoline. Especially food. Jenny’s blond hair and eyes the color of wild honey wouldn’t fetch any of those items—not unless she was willing to trade more than a pretty smile. Sleeping with somebody might win her a few good meals. It might buy her temporary protection under the roof of some single man, but that was about all.Now Jenny had enough protection, here at her aunt and uncle’s house on Ben Duggin Road. The road ended in a loop, where a developer had built twenty modern homes on one-acre lots. The rest of Duggin Road was taken up with a mixed lot of trailers, small farms, and older homes. Uncle Henry, a former Marine Corps captain, was a popular leader of the neighborhood defense team. Their house was well situated near the end of the loop, which was almost a half mile back from County Road 144. No one could come into their isolated neighborhood without passing scrutiny at Duggin Road’s single entrance. A palisade wall of ten-foot-high sharpened pine logs had been erected on either side of Duggin Road where it met the county road at a T intersection. The opening was the width of one vehicle. At night, a junker panel van filled with dirt and topped with barbed wire was pushed across the single narrow entry and chained in place at both ends. No stranger casually approached Duggin Road. As long as Jenny was under the protection of her aunt and uncle, she had no need to meet any other men, and certainly not teenage boys with only one thing on their minds.So she replied, “Boys? I don’t care about any boys—not unless they’ve got rich daddies. Rich enough to get me right the hell out of Tennessee. What good are boys? Anyway, it’s not too bad here. I get fed. I’m just so tired of being cold and hungry and dirty, that’s all.”“Well, who isn’t? You should count your blessings. You’re lucky you had kin here, folks willing to take you in. Lots of refugees didn’t have anybody at all.”“Somehow I don’t feel lucky. Not with all that’s happened.” Like losing her family after the Memphis earthquakes, for starters.“You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re not the only one who’s suffered. Jenny, I refuse to let you drag me down. It’s too nice a day.” Sue Bledsoe lifted her arms and forced a wan smile. “Make hay while the sun shines, didn’t you ever hear that? Well, it’s Saturday, the sun is shining, and everybody for miles around is going up to Mannville for the swap market. Come on, try smiling once in a while—it’s free and it doesn’t hurt. Have some fun when you can. Life goes on, Jenny McClure, and you have to keep living too.”“This isn’t living—this is just surviving.”“Welcome to reality.”“Reality sucks. I’m too dirty. My hair is revolting…and I smell like a hound dog.”Sue Bledsoe stared at her friend for a moment and then said, “This was going to be a surprise for later on, but look what I found.” She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Two quarters and three dimes. Old ones—real silver.”“Where’d you get all that money? You steal it? Who had it?”“Nobody had it. I found it.”“Oh, sure you did,”
What to read after Foreign Enemies And Traitors?
You can find similar books in the "Read Also" column, or choose other free books by Matthew Bracken to read onlineMoreLess
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