After Sylvia Read online

  “Nothing,” Owen said meekly.

  “Stand up!” she said.

  Owen rose but his knees started to shake.

  “It’s about math, Miss Glendon,” he said.

  “Are we doing math now, Owen?” she asked cuttingly. Martha Henbrock snorted again and snickers ran through the room.

  Owen said, “No, miss,” and his legs folded, letting him miserably back down into his seat. Dan Ruck’s spitball hit him on the right eyebrow and he wiped saliva off his face.

  “Stand up, Owen,” Miss Glendon ordered again. He did as he was told. “I want you to feel free to ask questions in this room,” she said. Her eyes looked fierce. “There is no such thing as a stupid question. Now, what did you want to ask?”

  Owen cleared his throat. “I was wondering,” he said, “if you could give us the code for this year. I think it would help all of us in the quizzes.”

  “What code?” she asked.

  “The multiplication code,” he said.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Now Owen was stumped. It was hard to imagine how to be any clearer than this.

  “The right answers,” he said slowly, “for this year. For the times tables,” he added.

  “Sit down!” she said curdy. “Stop wasting my time!”

  “But the answers change!” he blurted. “And you need to tell us or else —”

  “Owen, the times tables don’t change from year to year.”

  “Yes, they do,” he said quickly. “Every summer the teachers meet and decide what code —”

  A great gulping crash of laughter shook the room, drowning out Miss Glendon’s puzzled expression and driving Owen back into his seat, his heart pounding.

  Had Miss Glendon missed the meeting because she was new? Maybe the other teachers had failed to tell her about the new code?

  “The multiplication tables,” Miss Glendon said loudly, in an effort to calm down the rest of the students, “are exactly the same this year as last, and always will be the same, now and forever. I promise you, Owen.”

  The awful truth dawned on him.

  Owen walked home after school in a fury. As he approached the house Sylvester ran out joyously to greet him, hardly favoring his bad leg at all. He dropped his rock at Owens feet and backed up imploringly in his familiar way. But Owen ignored him and slammed the door on his way into the house.

  At dinner that evening, Margaret asked Owen if anything was wrong.

  “No.”

  “How was your day at school?” Horace asked. “Everything all right?”

  “Fine,” Owen said in a tight voice. He didn’t want to give Horace something else to laugh about.

  “Owen’s sad because of Sylvia Tull,” Leonard piped up. They were having spaghetti, and three long noodles were sticking out of his mouth. He’d made a volcano of meatballs on his plate and some of the lava sauce was spilling onto the place mat.

  “Who’s Sylvia Tull?” Horace asked. A note of delight had entered his voice — the same one, Owen recognized, that had been there when he was telling Owen about the multiplication codes.

  “She’s Owen’s girlfriend,’’ Leonard announced.

  “What? Do you have a sweetheart?” Margaret asked.

  Owen couldn’t stand it anymore. He threw his napkin on the table and bolted from the kitchen.

  He thought of going to the bedroom, but he knew Andy and Leonard would be up there in minutes, bugging him about Sylvia.

  So he ran outside and went around to the old coal chute and slid down into the basement where Uncle Lorne used to sleep. It was dark there but nowhere near as scary as it used to be before Lorne fixed it up. In the old days the Bog Man would sometimes leave the nearby fields and slide and gurgle in the slimy, cobwebbed shadows of that basement.

  But now it was a refuge. Owen found Uncle Lorne’s cot in the gloom and he lay there staring at the ceiling beams. He heard his brothers roaring around the house looking for him. It was only a matter of time before they rooted him out, but for now it was good to be alone, to be still.

  It hardly lasted a moment. Owen heard snuffling and whining noises, and there in the gloom beside him was Sylvester. He had brought his slimy rock, and he laid it gently on Owen’s stomach. Then he licked his neck and started circling, circling on the floor beside the cot before finally flumping into place.

  Owens family continued to call for him. He lay as still as possible and stared at the ceiling, dull in its shadows, and yearned for an adventure. Something — a tidal wave, maybe — to get him past the puddle of his problems.

  The Consolation of the Loon

  ANDY had a new theory about the immense, dark shadows that appeared .now and again under the surface of the slow-moving, brown-watered river that flowed at the bottom of the hill near the Skyes’ old farm­house. For a long time the boys had thought the shadow was caused by a giant squid that hid in the mud, its tentacles swaying in time with the murky reeds on the riverbed. But a new book in the library shed light on a different possibility.

  “I think it must be a plesiosaur!” Andy announced, and he showed the picture of the enormous beast to Owen while Leonard looked over their shoulders. It was late Friday afternoon and school was finished for the week. Two entire days stretched before them crying to be filled.

  The picture showed a long-necked sea monster with jagged teeth snapping a large fish in half. Most of the body was lost in shadows beneath the surface, exactly the way the shadows on the river disappeared into murk.

  “We could use the boat,” Andy said. It was an old abandoned pirate fighter they’d noticed weeks ago on the shore of the river just past Mr. Michael s pig farm. It did float, but one of the seats had broken when Andy stepped on it too hard, and the oars were different lengths.

  “It will be fine if we stay close to shore,” Owen said.

  The three of them went down to the basement to sort through the complicated and extremely valuable gear that Uncle Lorne had left behind when he moved out to marry Lorraine. There was a heavy metal box full of monster lures, some of which had barbed hooks the size of dog teeth. The boys also found a small but springy rod with steel line that they could use to drag the beast close to the boat. There was also a sturdy net that, if they lashed a broken hockey stick to the shaft, they could use to reach high into the air to trap the giant s head.

  Horace saw them dragging their gear upstairs.

  “What a great idea!” he said. “Why don’t we all go fishing!”

  Margaret called them for dinner then and they took their seats around the table.

  “I know just the lake,” Horace continued. “I haven’t been there for years. Lorne and I used to go. It’s got the most beautiful clear water — “

  “But —” Andy said.

  “Why don’t you give Lorne a call?” Margaret said brightly. “You could take all the children.”

  The boys sat in shock.

  “Not Eleanor and Sadie!” Andy managed to say.

  “Why not?” Horace asked. Andy started to explain about the plesiosaur in the river, about the true nature of their planned expedition, but Horace wouldn’t hear of it.

  “You want a real adventure?” he said. “You come camping with me.”

  “Besides,” Margaret said cheerily, “you need to get to know your cousins better.”

  A gloom settled over the boys’ dinner. Andy stared hard at his fork, and Leonard rested his head on his hand so close to his plate that it looked like his face might slump into the tuna casserole. Owen felt his food stick in his throat like wet sawdust.

  “What is your problem with Eleanor and Sadie?” Margaret asked finally. “They’re lovely girls.”

  “Sadie has woggly eyes,” Leonard said miserably.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “She does when she looks at me!”


  “And Eleanor is... Eleanor!” Andy said. His neck went stiff simply speaking her name.

  “We’ll all have a great time!” Horace said, like a judge sentencing them to hard labor. There was no point arguing anymore when he said things that way.

  “Yes, absolutely. You will all love it,” Margaret said.

  Owen listened to the strained sounds of family cutlery sawing through the silence.

  At last Horace said to Margaret, “You’re coming, too, of course?” There was much less finality in his voice than just a few minutes before.

  “I can’t leave Lorraine all alone,” Margaret said, and her eyes were large and innocent, with hardly a woggle in them.

  That night, just before sleep, Andy said, “Maybe the lake we’re going to is a landlocked glacial depository.”

  “A what?” Leonard asked.

  “A trap,” Andy said, “for plesiosaurs. That’s what happened at Loch Ness. The monster was caught there. If we get up early and get the boat, we could bring it with us to the lake.”

  Owen’s eyes got heavier and heavier. He had a dream of Sylvia sitting in the prow of the old boat, keeping watch. She had the net between her knees and her hand kept trailing in the water. Then the water turned dark, and the boat began to rise. Owen tried to tell her to move her hand away because the monster s jaws were getting closer. But the right words wouldn’t come. Finally he stood up and the boat started to rock and she screamed at him.

  “Come on! Let’s go!” It was Andy, shaking him awake.

  Owen rubbed his eyes and opened them, then shut them again and fought to get the dream back. There might still be time to save her!

  But she was gone in the mist.

  Leonard, still asleep, was making snuffling doggy noises with his mouth until Sylvester, who was now allowed to sleep inside, licked his face. Leonard struck out at the air and said, “Down, Sadie, no!”

  But finally he was awake, and the three boys snuck out of the house in the cold early light with Sylvester sniffing the ground ahead of them. His trusty rock was in his mouth all the way.

  “How are we going to get the boat back to the house?” Leonard asked.

  “It’s not that far,” Andy said lightly. “We’ll just carry it.”

  “But it’s uphill most of the way!” Leonard said. “And that boat weighs more than we do. I think we should bring the cart.”

  “The cart! The cart!” Andy hooted. “How is the cart going to hold up something as heavy as the boat?”

  “A lot better than I will!” Leonard replied, and he went into the garage and got it. The cart had been a Christmas present to all of them years before. It had a solid plywood construction and four tough steel and hard rubber wheels.

  “It better not slow us down,” Andy muttered.

  They ran like warriors up to the main road and then down the hill and through the woods and across the railroad tracks, the cold breeze smarting their faces. The cart bounced wildly behind Leonard as he pulled on its frayed rope.

  At the river the old boat listed in the weeds at the shore. It was even more sunken and tired than Owen had remembered from the last time they’d seen it. Large patches of crackly green paint had fallen off, and there were dents on the side of the massive craft. Somehow rocks had ended up in the water in the bottom of the boat, and the bow now sported a hole the size of a boot where the wood was crumbling.

  The boys inspected the damage. Luckily the hole was high enough that it wouldn’t be much of a problem.

  Under Andy’s orders, Owen and Leonard reached into the boat and cleared the rocks. Then they all heaved mightily until the boat was wrestled out of the weeds. They hoisted it on its side — it seemed as large as a beached whale — until most of the water had drained out. Then they strained and pulled again. But they could only move it a few more yards before the boat settled as if made of concrete.

  “I told you it was too heavy,” Leonard said.

  “Don’t be such a weakling!” Andy shot back.

  “Let’s use the cart,” Leonard suggested.

  “We’d just break it!” Andy insisted. “Come on! You’re not trying hard enough.”

  In response Leonard walked over to the edge of the water and started scanning the horizon with his hand shading his eyes.

  “You two keep lifting,” he said. “I’ll be on the lookout for plesiosaurs.”

  Surprisingly, the boat seemed a bit lighter without Leonard’s help. Straining and pushing, the boys managed to move it more than a dozen paces up the trail before collapsing in exhaustion.

  “It’s no good,” Owen said. “It’s too waterlogged. We’ll never get it to the house like this.”

  “We could use the cart!” Leonard called.

  “All right,” Andy said wearily. Leonard’s face brightened and he pulled the cart beside the huge boat.

  But then the shadows changed and Sylvester barked, and Owen looked back up the trail.

  “It’s Eleanor and Sadie!” Andy groaned. “What else could go wrong?”

  Eleanor called out to them. “We’ve been sent here at the crack of dawn to find out what pathetic activity you’re up to now.” Sylvester ran to her and deposited his rock at her feet, then began cir­cling her and whimpering.

  “It’s not pathetic,” Andy said. “We’re going to haul this boat up to the house so that we can launch it to find and capture a long-lost plesiosaur who’s been hiding in the depths of the lake for millions of years!”

  Sadie made woggly eyes at Leonard, who looked red-faced at the ground.

  “Pathetic,” Eleanor said. “Don’t you know that plesiosaurs are extinct? Not to mention the fact that a boat that big will never fit on a little cart like that. The axles will buckle.”

  “This little cart has held far more than this boat in its time!” Andy said. “It’s had huge boulders and airplane parts, and anti-submarine missiles...”

  “And a collection of robot heads,” Owen called.

  “And enough mud to build the pyramids!” Leonard yelled.

  “Pathetic,” Eleanor said again. She picked up Sylvester’s rock then and held it suspiciously between two fingers.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked.

  “Just throw it,” Andy growled.

  So Eleanor wound up and threw it as far as she could out into the river.

  Sylvester ran to the water’s edge and yelped and barked helplessly. He took a few steps into the water, then backed up and barked again and pleaded with them all.

  “What did you do that for?” Owen cried.

  “What?” Eleanor said. “It’s only a dumb rock.” She bent down and picked up another one. “Here, boy,” she said, showing it to Sylvester. “Chase this one.” She threw it a little way up the trail. Sylvester sniffed at it briefly, then returned to the water’s edge whining and whimpering.

  “That’s Sylvester’s special rock!” Owen said. “It’s the only one he loves. He won’t go for any other.”

  “Oh, come on!” Eleanor said. She picked up a different one and called out, but Sylvester didn’t even look at her.

  Andy took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his trousers. He tried wading into the water, but it was too cold.

  “We can’t even go out and get it for him!” Andy said bitterly. “Look what you’ve done!”

  “So he’s in love with a dumb rock,” Eleanor said. “Tell him to get over it.” She took Sadie’s arm and turned away. “We were instructed to tell you to report back home in five minutes or else the camping trip is off,” she said. “Apparently fish only bite in the early morning when most of us should be sleeping.”

  She pulled Sadie along with her.

  “Bye, Leonard,” Sadie said.

  “That’s it. That’s it!” Andy said angrily. He pulled on his shoes and socks, then ordered Leonard back t
o his post at the side of the boat. He wrestled the cart into place and took the side opposite Leonard, commanding Owen to the stern. Together they lifted. The weight shifted toward Leonard but Andy strained and the boat came crashing down on top of the little cart. But the axles held.

  The cart looked like a midget lifting a whale.

  “It’s working,” Leonard said. “It’s my idea and it’s working!”

  They struggled and sweated and puffed and roared, and the huge boat slowly rolled up the trail.

  Sylvester remained at the shore, whining and whimpering for his lost rock.

  “Come on, Sylvester!” Andy called. “We have to go!” And they all yelled for the dog.

  Sylvester seemed torn between joining the boys and staying by the last sighting of his rock. He barked and yelped pitifully. Finally he plunged into the water and began swimming frantically around, biting at the waves.

  The boat started to roll back down the trail.

  “Keep pushing!” Andy said raggedly. “We’ll come back for Sylvester when we get the boat to the house.”

  “But there won’t be time!” Owen pleaded.

  “We have no choice!” Andy argued.

  They huffed and strained. Slowly the boat rolled up the trail through the woods and over the railroad tracks. Under the tremendous load the wheels of the little cart dug into the dirt and every bump threatened to topple the load. But once they reached pavement, the cart rolled much better, and at the crest of the hill it became even easier.

  Owen looked down the slope of the driveway in the distance where everyone was standing near the car: Horace and Margaret and Lorne and Lorraine and the two girls. A huge pile of luggage littered the lawn. The car trunk was open and Horace stood with his hands on his hips staring at the bedrolls and backpacks, the loose blankets and pillows, the tents, sleeping bags, axes, shovels, ceramic mugs, plates and bowls and many other things waiting to be packed.

  The boat began to roll on its own toward the house. It was fun not to have to push, but to just jog beside the craft and keep hold. Leonard yelled out and waved, and Horace and the others turned their heads to see them coming. The girls were looking, too, and so Andy picked up the pace.