Read Online Calvin by Martine Leavitt - Free Book Online

are, or where the ice breaks up early. Come on!
    We got out of the Mustang. We had to walk a ways north to get our sled, and then we started heading south across the lake again.
    Hobbes: What a waste.
    Me: They could have donated them.
    Susie: To the poor.
    Me: To poor teenagers.
    She looked around at the empty white lake.
    Susie: How can they do that to our lake?
    Me: It’s our lake now, is it?
    Susie: It’s ours because we know it this way.
    Me: Bill wouldn’t have been impressed if we’d driven across the lake.
    Susie: He won’t be impressed that you’re walking across it either.
    She stopped and looked back. It was dark enough now that the cars seemed ghostly from where we were.
    Susie: We made that up.
    Me: If we did, it was a good one.
    *   *   *
    I didn’t want to put the tent too close to the cars, so we walked a little farther.
    We’d just rounded another snow dune when we saw a light up ahead, floating in the dusk like a square moon.
    Me: Is that real?
    Susie: As real as my right arm.
    This did not reassure me.
    It was an island, a really small island.
    With a little cabin on it.
    Smoke drifted out of the pipe chimney. A fire was going in that cabin.
    I thought we would reach it in a couple of minutes, but it was farther than it seemed. We got out our flashlight and twenty minutes later we scrambled up the rocks on the shore of the island, dragging the sled behind us.
    A huge man opened the door. His beard covered almost all of his face except his lips, his upper cheeks and eyes, and his forehead. Those were covered by bushy eyebrows and a mane of curly gray head hair. He looked like a big gray bear with human eyes.
    Hobbes: Yeti?
    Man: I thought I was seeing things.
    Me: I know the feeling.
    Man: I thought I must be seeing things because no way would two kids be out for a stroll this far into the lake, and at night.
    He sounded angry. He took a step toward us, onto the wooden box that served as a front stoop. Susie and I backed up.
    Man: I thought, they got a sled. They turned right when they should’ve turned left, those two. They want a hill, not a lake, those two. You know the difference between a hill and a lake, boy?
    Me: We—
    Man (his voice getting louder): Then I see one of you is a boy and one of you is a girl, and no way should a girl be in the middle of this lake.
    Susie scowled at him.
    Man: So I’m thinking that the boy should be the one held responsible for the girl being out in the middle of the big, very big lake.
    Susie and I glanced at each other and started to leave.
    Man: Git in here!
    Me: Thanks, but no, sir. We have to be getting on our way, sir.
    Man: You stay out then. Come on, girl, I’ve got a fire, and I’m not near as scary as I seem. Come on, this house isn’t made of candy and I’m not going to stuff you into the oven.
    She pointed at me.
    Susie: I’m with him.
    Man: All right then. Both of you, in. Grab a bit of fire. Name’s Noah.
    Me: I’m Calvin, this is Susie.
    I said it cheerfully in my best un-schizophrenic voice.
    Susie: Calvin didn’t tell me about any islands out here.
    Noah: It’s a reef. Not on the map.
    We walked slowly through the door of the cabin. Noah gestured to two chairs at a small wooden table.
    Noah: Throw your coats there.
    Hobbes: Will there be hot chocolate and marshmallows?
    The fire was a beautiful thing. I was almost willing to be thrown into it, if that’s what he meant to do to me.
    In the cabin was
    a narrow bed heaped with quilts
    a coatrack with various ratty coats on it
    a duffel bag, open, full of books
    some shelving with cans of food on it
    a small round table stacked with papers and pencils
    two old wooden chairs
    a stool hanging from the rafters
    various bins
    and a door to another room—probably the privy.
    We took off our parkas and mitts and boots and socks and held our sore feet to the fire.
    Hobbes stretched out close to the stove, still