Read Online The Shells Of Chanticleer by Maura Patrick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maura Patrick
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they’d forgotten about me. All of them.
Time passed. 9:30, 10:00. I grabbed a book from the shelf and tried to get interested. Usually I would, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I sat watching the clock. It was getting really late. I closed my eyes just for a minute and the next thing I knew I was waking up, my face pressed into the cool leather cushion, my body curled up. I had fallen soundly asleep. Oh my gosh. I was drooling! I looked at the clock. It was 11 pm. I jumped up and without thinking ran out of the library, across the landing, and down the great staircase. I passed through the darkened, first floor, into the vestibule, opened the door, and left. No one saw me; no one stopped me.
I started walking down the street, cringing a little, waiting for the Prime Minister to come after me, but he didn’t. I walked hastily, and quickly made it back to the center of town, which was completely still and deserted. Soft streetlights illuminated the benches and walkways, and tinkling musical chimes made background music through a sound system. The flower stands from earlier were shuttered tight. The fountains were all turned off. I thought that the air smelled like applesauce. There was no Bing waiting for me. There was no one.
I was lucky to remember the way. I didn’t know if it was safe to be walking alone, but I was desperate to get back. A quick check over my shoulder confirmed that no one was trailing me. I quickened my pace and practically ran up the pathway to Summer Hall. It felt like forever since I had left that morning.
I entered the empty, darkened lobby and sprinted up the double staircase to my room. The hallways were empty. It was lights out. I was never happier than when I finally opened the door to my quiet room and found everything perfectly in place, my bed neatly made, waiting for me. I fell into my bed, hungry and exhausted. I hadn’t passed a single person since I’d left the library. I wished Chanticleer was the kind of place that put candy on the pillow before bed. I tossed around for a few minutes and then fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning I again found a tray with my breakfast and a note from Miss Clarice outside my door. I ate the pastry and the fruit and drank the warm caramel sugar ravenously. I wish there was a way to get second helpings, I thought. I bathed and got dressed and walked down the silent hallway to Miss Clarice’s office. Despite the fun I’d had at lunch the day before, I seemed to be alone most of the time there.
I knew my way, and when I got to her office I knew to sit in the velvet chair. She was just finishing up a conversation on the phone so she smiled and held up her finger to let me know she’d only be a minute. I listened in.
“But I think you can give her a little more time,” Miss Clarice pleaded. “No, I’m sure we have let others go on this long.”
She sighed, listening to the other end of the conversation. I thought she looked sad. She stood up and walked over to the window, turning her back to me as if my overhearing was not ideal.
“One more week,” she requested, and continued to plead her case. “I just don’t feel completely right about this yet. No, I know. No, she’s no different. I know, I know. I thought there were slight improvements recently, even if the assessment says otherwise. Four more days? I can agree to that. Sure, you can start the paperwork if you want to save time. For what date? All right, yes, I suppose that will have to work. I see. I know you like to do it that way. Okay, goodbye then.”
Slowly, she hung up the phone and took a minute to gather her composure before she looked at me again. When she did, whatever argument she had just lost didn’t show on her face. She was happy to see me.
“Well done, Macy. I am happy to tell you that you passed your test yesterday.”
“Oh, so did I alphabetize everything correctly?”
“Probably. We don’t really care about those books,” she laughed, leaning
Time passed. 9:30, 10:00. I grabbed a book from the shelf and tried to get interested. Usually I would, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything. I sat watching the clock. It was getting really late. I closed my eyes just for a minute and the next thing I knew I was waking up, my face pressed into the cool leather cushion, my body curled up. I had fallen soundly asleep. Oh my gosh. I was drooling! I looked at the clock. It was 11 pm. I jumped up and without thinking ran out of the library, across the landing, and down the great staircase. I passed through the darkened, first floor, into the vestibule, opened the door, and left. No one saw me; no one stopped me.
I started walking down the street, cringing a little, waiting for the Prime Minister to come after me, but he didn’t. I walked hastily, and quickly made it back to the center of town, which was completely still and deserted. Soft streetlights illuminated the benches and walkways, and tinkling musical chimes made background music through a sound system. The flower stands from earlier were shuttered tight. The fountains were all turned off. I thought that the air smelled like applesauce. There was no Bing waiting for me. There was no one.
I was lucky to remember the way. I didn’t know if it was safe to be walking alone, but I was desperate to get back. A quick check over my shoulder confirmed that no one was trailing me. I quickened my pace and practically ran up the pathway to Summer Hall. It felt like forever since I had left that morning.
I entered the empty, darkened lobby and sprinted up the double staircase to my room. The hallways were empty. It was lights out. I was never happier than when I finally opened the door to my quiet room and found everything perfectly in place, my bed neatly made, waiting for me. I fell into my bed, hungry and exhausted. I hadn’t passed a single person since I’d left the library. I wished Chanticleer was the kind of place that put candy on the pillow before bed. I tossed around for a few minutes and then fell into a deep sleep.
In the morning I again found a tray with my breakfast and a note from Miss Clarice outside my door. I ate the pastry and the fruit and drank the warm caramel sugar ravenously. I wish there was a way to get second helpings, I thought. I bathed and got dressed and walked down the silent hallway to Miss Clarice’s office. Despite the fun I’d had at lunch the day before, I seemed to be alone most of the time there.
I knew my way, and when I got to her office I knew to sit in the velvet chair. She was just finishing up a conversation on the phone so she smiled and held up her finger to let me know she’d only be a minute. I listened in.
“But I think you can give her a little more time,” Miss Clarice pleaded. “No, I’m sure we have let others go on this long.”
She sighed, listening to the other end of the conversation. I thought she looked sad. She stood up and walked over to the window, turning her back to me as if my overhearing was not ideal.
“One more week,” she requested, and continued to plead her case. “I just don’t feel completely right about this yet. No, I know. No, she’s no different. I know, I know. I thought there were slight improvements recently, even if the assessment says otherwise. Four more days? I can agree to that. Sure, you can start the paperwork if you want to save time. For what date? All right, yes, I suppose that will have to work. I see. I know you like to do it that way. Okay, goodbye then.”
Slowly, she hung up the phone and took a minute to gather her composure before she looked at me again. When she did, whatever argument she had just lost didn’t show on her face. She was happy to see me.
“Well done, Macy. I am happy to tell you that you passed your test yesterday.”
“Oh, so did I alphabetize everything correctly?”
“Probably. We don’t really care about those books,” she laughed, leaning
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