Read Online Farewell Summer by Ray Bradbury - Free Book Online Page B

window, he was young, fit as a fiddle, full of piss and vinegar, just like those boys …
    Wait a minute! Whose birthday’s next? he wondered, trying to call up school record sheets in his mind. One of the monsters? What a chance that would be. I’ll kill them with kindness, change my spots, dress in a dog suit, hide the mean cat inside!
    They won’t know what hit them.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
    It was such a day that all the doors stood open and all the window sashes had been up since dawn. No one could stay in, everyone was out, nobody would die, everyone would live forever. It was more spring than farewell summer, more Eden than Illinois. During the night a rain had come to quench the heat, and in the morning, with the clouds hastened off, each tree in all the yards gave off a separate and private rain if you shook it in passing.
    Quartermain, out of bed and whirring through the house in hand–propelled trajectories, again found that odd thing, a smile, on his mouth.
    He kicked the kitchen door wide and flung himself, eyes glittering, the smile pinned to his thin lips, into the presence of his servants and—
    The cake.
    â€˜Good morning, Mr Cal,’ said the cook.
    The cake stood like a magnificent Alp upon the kitchen table. To the odors of morning were added the smells ofsnow upon a white mountain, the aroma of frosted blossoms and candied roses, of petal pink candles and translucent icing. There it was, like a distant hill in a dream of the future, the cake as white as noon clouds, the cake in the shape of collected years, each candle ready for the lighting and blowing out.
    â€˜That,’ he whispered, ‘oh, my God, that will
do
it! Take it down to the ravine. Get.’
    The housekeeper and the gardener picked up the white mountain. The cook led the way, opening the door.
    They carried it out the door and down the porch and across the garden.
    Who could resist a sweet thing like that, a dream?
thought Quartermain.
    â€˜Watch it!’
    The housekeeper slipped on the dew–wet grass.
    Quartermain shut his eyes.
    â€˜No, God, no!’
    When he opened his eyes again, the servants were still marching steadily, perspiring, down the hill, into the green ravine, toward the clear waters, under the high cool shadowy trees, toward the birthday table.
    â€˜Thank you,’ murmured Quartermain, and added, ‘God.’
    Below, in the ravine, the cake was set upon the table, and it was white and it glowed and it was perfect.

CHAPTER THIRTY
    â€˜There,’ said Mother, fixing his tie.
    â€˜Who cares about a darn girl’s birthday party?’ said Douglas. ‘It sounds awful.’
    â€˜If Quartermain can go to all the trouble to have a cake made for Lisabell, you can take an hour and go. Especially since he sent invitations. Be polite is all I ask.’
    â€˜Come on, Doug, aw come on!’ cried Tom, from the front porch.
    â€˜Hold your horses! Here I go.’
    And the screen door slammed and he was in the street and he and Tom were walking in the fresh day.
    â€˜Boy,’ whispered Tom, smiling, ‘I’m gonna eat till I get sick.’
    â€˜There’s a deep and dire plot in here somewhere,’ said Douglas. ‘How come all of a sudden Quartermain isn’t making a commotion? How come, just like that, he’s all smiles?’
    â€˜I never in my life,’ said Tom, ‘argued with a piece of cake or a bowl of ice cream.’
    Halfway down the block they were joined by Charlie, who fell into step beside them and looked like he was going to a funeral.
    â€˜Hey, this tie’s killing me.’ Charlie walked with them in a solemn line.
    Moments later they were joined by Will and the others.
    â€˜As soon as the party’s over, let’s all go skinny–dipping out at Apple Crick. Might be our last chance before it gets too cold. Summer’s gone.’
    Doug said, ‘Am I the only one who thinks there’s somethin’