The lost boy : a foster child's search for the love of a family / Dave Pelzer.
Record details
- ISBN: 9781558745155
- ISBN: 1558745157
- ISBN: 9780613173537
- ISBN: 0613173538
- ISBN: 9781435260429
- ISBN: 1435260422
- Physical Description: xi, 340 pages ; 19 cm
- Publisher: Deerfield Beach, Fla. : Health Communications, Inc., [1997]
- Copyright: ©1997
Content descriptions
General Note: | Publisher, publishing date and paging may vary. |
Target Audience Note: | 720L Lexile |
Study Program Information Note: | Accelerated Reader AR UG 5.1 9 48148. |
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Available copies
- 83 of 95 copies available at Missouri Evergreen. (Show)
- 5 of 7 copies available at Jefferson County.
Holds
- 3 current holds with 95 total copies.
Other Formats and Editions
Show Only Available Copies
Location | Call Number / Copy Notes | Barcode | Shelving Location | Status | Due Date |
---|---|---|---|---|---|
Jefferson County Library-Arnold | B PELZER (Text) | 30000023842176 | Biography | Available | - |
Jefferson County Library-Arnold | LP BIO PELZER (Text) | 30061100080502 | Large Print | Available | - |
Jefferson County Library-Cedar Hill | BIO PELZER (Text) | 30000024877973 | Biography | Checked out | 05/08/2024 |
Jefferson County Library-Cedar Hill | BIO PELZER (Text)
Digital Bookplate:
Purchased with A&E Funds -- 2022
|
30031100114072 | Biography | Available | - |
Jefferson County Library-Northwest | BIO PELZER (Text) | 30000024991519 | Biography | Available | - |
Jefferson County Library-Northwest | BIO PELZER (Text) | 30051100080511 | Biography | On holds shelf | - |
Jefferson County Library-Windsor | BIO PELZER (Text) | 30000024699435 | Biography | Available | - |
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The Lost Boy : A Foster Child's Search for the Love of a Family
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Excerpt
The Lost Boy : A Foster Child's Search for the Love of a Family
from Chapter OneWinter 1970, Daly City, California--IÃm alone. IÃm hungry and IÃm shivering in the dark! I sit on top of my hands at the bottom of the stairs in the garage. My head is tilted backward. My hands became numb hours ago. My neck and shoulder muscles begin to throb. But thatÃs nothing new--lÃve learned to turn off the pain. IÃm MotherÃs prisoner. I am nine years old and IÃve been living like this for years. Every day itÃs the same thing. I wake up from sleeping on an old army cot in the garage, perform the morning chores, and if IÃm lucky, eat leftover breakfast cereal from my brothers. I run to school, steal food, return to "The House" and am forced to throw up in the toilet bowl to prove that I didnÃt commit the crime of stealing any food. I receive beatings or play another one of her "games," perform afternoon chores, then sit at the bottom of the stairs until IÃm summoned to complete the evening chores. Then, and only if I have completed all of my chores on time, and if I have not committed any "crimes," I may be fed a morsel of food. My day ends only when Mother allows me to sleep on the army cot, where my body curls up in my meek effort to retain any body heat. The only pleasure in my life is when I sleep. ThatÃs the only time I can escape my life. I love to dream. Weekends are worse. No school means no food and more time at "The House.ö All I can do is try to imagine myself away --somewhere, anywhere -- from "The House." For years I have been the outcast of ôThe Family." As long as I can remember I have always been in trouble and have ôdeserved" to be punished. At first I thought I was a bad boy. Then I thought Mother was sick because she only acted differently when my brothers were not around and my father was away at work. But somehow I always knew Mother and I had a private relationship. I also realized that for some reason I have+ been MotherÃs sole target for her unexplained rage and twisted pleasure. I have no home. I am a member of no oneÃs family. I know deep inside that I do not now, nor will I ever deserve any love, attention or even recognition as a human being. I am a child called "It." IÃm all alone inside. Upstairs the battle begins. Since itÃs after four in the afternoon, I knnow both of my parents are drunk. The yelling starts. First the name-calling, then the swearing. I count the seconds before the subject turns to me--it always does. The sound of MotherÃs voice makes my insides turn. "What do you mean?" she shrieks at my father, Stephen. "You think I treat æThe Boyà bad? Do you?" Her voice then turns ice cold. I can imagine her pointing a finger at my fatherÃs face. "You ... listen ... to ... me. You ... have no idea what æItÃsà like. If you think I treat æItà that bad ... then ... æItà can live somewhere else. I can picture my father--who, after all these years, still tries somewhat to stand up for me --swirling the liquor in his glass, making the ice from his drink rattle. "Now calm down," he Excerpted from The Lost Boy: A Foster Child's Search for the Love of a Family by Dave Pelzer All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.