Read Online The Humming Room by Ellen Potter - Free Book Online Page A

ran up ahead and pulled open the front door.
    â€œBut it was addressed to P. Fanshaw, not E.,” Roo said as Simon walked in the house.
    â€œEh, people are always misspelling names. It’s amazing that half the mail ever finds its way to the right place.”
    He put the boxes down in the lobby and smiled at her. Roo looked at him carefully. His thick, round glasses obscured the expression in his eyes, but she could see nothing in his face to suggest that he was hiding anything.
    â€œWell, whatever’s in them”—he slapped the box on top of the stack—“I hope it’s something you don’t mind . So long, Roo.”
    After he left, Roo sat on the floor, picked up the smallest box and put it on her lap. It was a rectangular package the size of a cutting board. She had never received a package before, much less four of them. The shipping label said:
    Â 
    R OO F ANSHAW , C OUGH R OCK , C LAYTON , NY 13624
    Â 
    She found it oddly pleasing to see her name attached to the island. Her mind reached out toward the future and cautiously toyed with the idea of a life on Cough Rock. Summers that could be spent outside, all day. The earth would sing loudly and she had all the time in the world to listen to it. And in the winter, she could watch the ice begin to glaze the river, quieting it. It might grow so thick that she could walk out on it. The thought of standing on the river both frightened and excited her. And maybe she would see the Faigne again. Maybe…maybe she would even meet him some day. The idea thrilled her though she couldn’t quite say why. She had never in her life wanted to know anybody. Maybe it was because he hid too—and he seemed to do it better than she did.
    She picked at the edges of the packing tape until it came up and then, slowly, she pulled it off across the box’s seam. Lifting the lid she found layers of silver tissue paper with twists of hairline-thin vines printed across it. She lifted up the paper one layer at a time until she uncovered something made of soft, brown material. Pulling it out of the box, the material unfolded, and Roo saw that it was a pair of pants. Brown corduroys, nearly identical to the ones she owned, but new and so velvety that she petted it like a cat. It was her size too.
    The second box held sneakers. They weren’t the same brand as her own torn-up pair, but the color was nearly the same. The box contained another pair of shoes too, which was nothing like anything she owned but was something she might have chosen for herself—brown and plain with flat rubber soles that would make no noise along the hallways.
    The third box held shirts in dark blues and dark greens, the same colors as her own T-shirts, and the last box held several pairs of jeans, some shorts, two nightgowns, and two hooded sweatshirts, nearly exactly like her own.
    â€œWhat’s this?” Violet approached from the east wing, carrying a basket of laundry.
    Roo held up one of the sweatshirts.
    â€œDid you order these?” she asked Violet.
    â€œNot me.” Violet put down the basket and came over to sift through one of the boxes until she found a packing slip. “Looks like your uncle ordered them.”
    She picked up a few of the shirts and looked at them quizzically. “The things Ms. Valentine got for you were much nicer.”
    â€œI told him I liked my own clothes better,” Roo said, remembering.
    Violet looked around at the other clothes in the boxes, a surprised expression on her face. “So he bought you your own clothes.”
    Roo nodded, frowning. Her uncle had barely seemed to notice her; and what he noticed, he hadn’t appeared to like.
    â€œI don’t know what to think about him,” she said, looking up at Violet.
    â€œYes, well…no one really does.”
    â€œDo you like him?” Roo asked her curiously.
    Violet paused, as though she’d never really considered this before.