Read Online Time for Andrew by Mary Downing Hahn - Free Book Online
Authors: Mary Downing Hahn
Ads: Link
stupid mistake after another. To top it all off, Mr. Tyler had scolded me at dinner for talking with my mouth full. He wanted to know if I'd forgotten my manners as well as everything else.
The weather had put him in a temper, Mrs. Tyler said, but it hurt my feelings when he yelled at me. Dad never raised his voice, never made me feel dumb, never ranted and raved like a tyrant.
Alone in the dark attic, I broke down and cried. I just couldn't help it. I missed my parents, I wanted to go home, I was sick and tired of being Andrew.
A sudden silence made the hair on the back of my neck rise. A few feet away, a boy appeared at the top of the attic steps. Wearing my rocket-print pajamas, he stared at me, frowning and rubbing his eyes.
"Good grief, Drew," he said. "How's a fellow supposed to sleep with the racket you're making up here?"
Chapter 10
I didn't know whether to be happy to see Andrew or mad because he'd taken so long to show up. "Where have you been?" I asked. "Haven't you heard me calling you every single night?"
"Believe me, you've made enough noise to raise the dead—which I very nearly was, in spite of your modern medicine and hospitals and such."
Eyeing me glumly, Andrew sat down on a trunk. "I hope you haven't called me up here to switch places."
Taken by surprise, I stared at him. "What do you mean? Don't you want to go home?"
"Not yet, not till I'm stronger." He pulled up his pajama sleeve and showed me his arm. "See that? I'm just skin and bones. I look like death warmed over."
He shuddered at the image, but I was too upset to feel sorry for him. "I don't want to be you anymore," I said. "I want to be me, I want to go home."
"Give me more time," Andrew begged. "Please, Drew."
"You've had three weeks," I said. "That's long enough."
He fidgeted with the trunk's lock, flipping it up and down. "Couldn't we swap for keeps?"
I stared at him. "You aren't serious," I whispered, "you can't be."
Andrew huddled on the trunk, his arms wrapped around his knees, his face hidden. "What if it's my fate to die in 1910?"
"They gave you medicine, they cured you," I said. "You don't have diphtheria anymore."
Without raising his head, Andrew muttered, "I could fall, drown, be struck by lightning, get blood poisoning, catch measles, freeze in a snowstorm. There's plenty of ways to die besides diphtheria."
Andrew waited for me to say something, but I hardened my heart against him. I'd saved his life once—that was all I was going to do. Now he'd just have to take his chances like everyone else.
Finally, he raised his head and looked at me. "Suppose we make a bargain, a gentleman's agreement."
I stared at Andrew, worried by the sharp edge in his voice. He wasn't begging now. "What sort of bargain?"
He eyed me coldly. "I challenge you to a game of marbles. Ringer, to be exact. As long as I win, I stay in your time and you stay in mine. If I lose, we switch places."
"That's not fair," I said. "I don't know anything about marbles."
Andrew leaned toward me, his face pale and earnest. "It wasn't fair of you to take what belonged to me. I warned you, I said you'd be sorry. Have you forgotten?"
I opened my mouth to blame Aunt Blythe, but Andrew stopped me. "Don't tell me it was your aunt's fault," he said. "A true gent never blames a lady."
When I tried to argue, Andrew refused to listen. "We'll be like knights in the olden days," he said, "fighting for our honor."
Sliding off the trunk, he seized my hand and shook it firmly. "Meet me here tomorrow at midnight," he said.
I followed him to the top of the steps. Below was my room. I saw the electric lamp beside the bed, my posters on the blue walls, my shoes on the floor. I even heard a pop song playing faintly on the radio.
I started to run downstairs behind him, but the moment my foot touched the step, Andrew vanished, and the light went out.
"Andrew," I cried, "Andrew, come back!"
Someone gasped. Hannah was standing at the bottom of the steps, staring at
The weather had put him in a temper, Mrs. Tyler said, but it hurt my feelings when he yelled at me. Dad never raised his voice, never made me feel dumb, never ranted and raved like a tyrant.
Alone in the dark attic, I broke down and cried. I just couldn't help it. I missed my parents, I wanted to go home, I was sick and tired of being Andrew.
A sudden silence made the hair on the back of my neck rise. A few feet away, a boy appeared at the top of the attic steps. Wearing my rocket-print pajamas, he stared at me, frowning and rubbing his eyes.
"Good grief, Drew," he said. "How's a fellow supposed to sleep with the racket you're making up here?"
Chapter 10
I didn't know whether to be happy to see Andrew or mad because he'd taken so long to show up. "Where have you been?" I asked. "Haven't you heard me calling you every single night?"
"Believe me, you've made enough noise to raise the dead—which I very nearly was, in spite of your modern medicine and hospitals and such."
Eyeing me glumly, Andrew sat down on a trunk. "I hope you haven't called me up here to switch places."
Taken by surprise, I stared at him. "What do you mean? Don't you want to go home?"
"Not yet, not till I'm stronger." He pulled up his pajama sleeve and showed me his arm. "See that? I'm just skin and bones. I look like death warmed over."
He shuddered at the image, but I was too upset to feel sorry for him. "I don't want to be you anymore," I said. "I want to be me, I want to go home."
"Give me more time," Andrew begged. "Please, Drew."
"You've had three weeks," I said. "That's long enough."
He fidgeted with the trunk's lock, flipping it up and down. "Couldn't we swap for keeps?"
I stared at him. "You aren't serious," I whispered, "you can't be."
Andrew huddled on the trunk, his arms wrapped around his knees, his face hidden. "What if it's my fate to die in 1910?"
"They gave you medicine, they cured you," I said. "You don't have diphtheria anymore."
Without raising his head, Andrew muttered, "I could fall, drown, be struck by lightning, get blood poisoning, catch measles, freeze in a snowstorm. There's plenty of ways to die besides diphtheria."
Andrew waited for me to say something, but I hardened my heart against him. I'd saved his life once—that was all I was going to do. Now he'd just have to take his chances like everyone else.
Finally, he raised his head and looked at me. "Suppose we make a bargain, a gentleman's agreement."
I stared at Andrew, worried by the sharp edge in his voice. He wasn't begging now. "What sort of bargain?"
He eyed me coldly. "I challenge you to a game of marbles. Ringer, to be exact. As long as I win, I stay in your time and you stay in mine. If I lose, we switch places."
"That's not fair," I said. "I don't know anything about marbles."
Andrew leaned toward me, his face pale and earnest. "It wasn't fair of you to take what belonged to me. I warned you, I said you'd be sorry. Have you forgotten?"
I opened my mouth to blame Aunt Blythe, but Andrew stopped me. "Don't tell me it was your aunt's fault," he said. "A true gent never blames a lady."
When I tried to argue, Andrew refused to listen. "We'll be like knights in the olden days," he said, "fighting for our honor."
Sliding off the trunk, he seized my hand and shook it firmly. "Meet me here tomorrow at midnight," he said.
I followed him to the top of the steps. Below was my room. I saw the electric lamp beside the bed, my posters on the blue walls, my shoes on the floor. I even heard a pop song playing faintly on the radio.
I started to run downstairs behind him, but the moment my foot touched the step, Andrew vanished, and the light went out.
"Andrew," I cried, "Andrew, come back!"
Someone gasped. Hannah was standing at the bottom of the steps, staring at
Similar Books
