Read Online The Zebra Wall by Kevin Henkes - Free Book Online

Mrs. Vorlob.
    â€œCampbell?” said Adine.
    Mrs. Vorlob shook her head no.
    â€œHow about Felix or Sylvester?” Aunt Irene offered.
    Baby spit up.
    â€œI like the sound of Roland, Jr.,” Mr. Vorlob said, smiling.
    No.
    â€œDuncan?” said Adine.
    No.
    â€œMickey?”
    No.
    â€œDonald?”
    No.
    â€œWinnie, as in Pooh?” “Oscar?” “Grover?” “Bert?” “Ernie?” “Wilbur?”
    No. No. No. No. No. No.
    â€œGeorge Washington Vorlob!”
    No!
    â€œWhy don’t we keep his name Baby?” Mr. Vorlob asked everyone, raising and lowering his eyebrows.
    â€œ No! ” they all shouted, drowning out the sounds of the storm.
    By the time the wind had died down and the sky was clear, they were no closer to finding a name for Baby. Nothing sounded exactly right to Mrs. Vorlob. And, except for her own suggestions, everything sounded completely wrong to Adine.
    June had become July. July had turned into August. August was nearly September.
    In the mornings, the dew was thick now—the lawn a silver, beaded carpet. At night, Adine often needed more than a sheet to keep her warm. The county fair came and went, as did the circus. School started. Uncle Gilly got married in Iowa and sent a picture of his new bride; she looked much thinner than Aunt Irene and three times younger. Her name was Charlene. Aunt Irene remained with the Vorlobs, moving in more and more of her possessions. Consequently, Adine tugged on her ear so frequently now, that she worried about pulling it off. And Baby was still called Baby.

11

The Pixie
    The Indian-summer moon was huge and yellow. Adine admired it through the filmy, half-opened window of the bus. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Mr. Vorlob had taken Adine and her sisters to the Dairy Queen and for a ride on the wealthy side of town to gape at the big houses. Aunt Irene and Deedee had come with them. Mrs. Vorlob had stayed home with Baby.
    Periodically, Mr. Vorlob would beep the horn and wave wildly at strangers walking by, to see how they’d respond. Carla joined him—waving, and screaming, “Hello, happy Friday night!”—until she dropped her ice-cream cone out the window. Adine shrank down into the seat—greeting strangers like this embarrassed her. She couldn’t bear to watch the passersby tilt their heads in confusion as a clunky, lime-green school bus offered noisy salutations.
    Adine stared at the moon again as they snaked their way around a curve into Adine’s favorite neighborhood. Adine had just learned in science class that the moon shone by reflecting the sun’s light, that it revolved around the earth, and that it was spherical. But that night it appeared to be flat, like a tiddly wink suspended in midair.
    Adine’s favorite house in Mason was a mansion near the lake. At night, it looked like a wedding cake under spotlights—three stories tall, all white, with carvings above the windows like frosting and a columned, wraparound porch with pink steps that spread out in three directions. The house seemed to be laughing, the shadows of the nearby trees bouncing across it and playing on the uneven turrets that crowned it.
    To draw it all in, Adine usually begged her father to park by the overgrown field near the mansion. There was always too much to see whizzing by. But that night they just drove on, Adine keeping silent.
    If Mrs. Vorlob had been along, they’d have played a game they called Who Lives Here? Adine loved the game. For every house fancy enough to warrant attention, Mrs. Vorlob would call out, “Who lives here?” The children would take turns making up a history for the people who lived in the houses. Names, jobs, number of children, pets. The bigger the house, the more unbelievable and imaginative the stories. Even if they’d pick the same houses time after time, the stories would always change.
    It was much too hot