Novelas y relatos de The Giver Ch 8

I used to always be the one begging to go outside. [April 5th. Today was cloudy. Mom was holding your clothes and crying again. I stood in the doorway. I couldn’t bring myself to go in. Ches, if you were here, you’d run to her and hug her, wouldn’t you? I can’t do that. I don’t deserve to.] [May 20th. It’s a rainy day. Joy came to see me today. She gave me a piece of candy. She said it was your favorite. I didn’t take it. Ches, that was yours. I’m not worthy of it.]

Mara, standing back, said nothing. She didn’t need to. The line was gone. The waiting was over. The work had begun. ------------- *End of Chapter 81*

##Chapter 84: Cole Book Two: Don't Leave "Someone's at the door, can you please answer it?" Mom yells from the kitchen where she's baking Christmas cookies. Already. That's not a complaint. It means I'll have more food to take back to school when I leave tomorrow afternoon. I pause, unable to rip my attention away from the big screen TV as the final seconds of the first quarter play out. The bell rings for a second time as the ball is being passed and-

"N-no! How can she—" "Don't lie to me, Charlie. I know my mother. She will do things... I know... I know...hmm." his speech patterns were declining and I insist thatbi get his suppressors as soon as possible. The door opens as I pass the pills to Gerroto who keeps mumbling to himself. "Hi boys!~ Are we walking in the middle of something?" Ravine enters with two huge bags of gifts. "They can't separate us. We love each other. We love each other... hmm... we love each other." I see Ravine's focus shifting to Gerroto.

Bartimaeus hummed and as he felt her disappear and cloaked himself and his charge in flames and transported them back to Hale Academy. \\ Humans could be so similar sometimes…\\ xXxXx (End of Chapter 6)

"Clause eight?" She smiled. "Clause eight: No dream too small to matter." He thought for a moment. "Clause nine: We begin again. Always." Their pens swept in tandem—two pairs of handwriting etching plans into paper, as substantive and real as cement, steel, and laughter.

Eleven years old, eight weeks into learning what her gift was and wasn't, already thinking about the person behind her who needed the same door she had just walked through. "Yes," I said. "That's exactly right. That's how it works." "I know," she said. "I figured that out from watching you." Outside the window, the autumn had completed its slow work on the trees — the pine line dark and unchanging, the other trees around it fully turned, the specific, beautiful stubbornness of the pines holding their green through everything the season did to everything else. Reliable, Zayden had said about them once. They don't perform the season. They just hold.

I smiled hard on my thoughts . Hey guys.. thank you for reading the book . I am really grateful to you all . The next chapter will be a game changer and heartbreaking for my girl . So brace yourself . The truth is going to be disclose. Thank you ! . Keep reading .

He thought: this is the correct condition. He was, in the full weight of the August Thursday morning and the eighth section on the board and the bench drawn and the grandmother's window seat in the first building and Thomas's eleven years and the girl at the dark window waiting for the colour to go and Raymond waiting for the January sun line and the two women on the kitchen committee who had felt cut off and all the attending people in all the honest buildings and all the sections and all the pocket notebooks and the correspondence that was the understanding and the understanding that was the correspondence and the bench first and the next letter waiting, glad. He was glad. End of Chapter T

The last one showed me sleeping in my bed at home, with Eight standing over me holding scissors. Eight grabbed my wrist. Her skin burned like fever. "You're the key because you're the first natural one in five generations. No tanks. No needles. Just..." She tapped my chest where my heart beat too fast. "*Magic.*" Mother snarled and ripped me away so hard my shoulder popped. But Eight just laughed again. "Too late, Mother. She's already waking up." Something *clicked* inside me then—like when you turn a key in a toy that's been still too long.