Read Online Trouble by Gary D. Schmidt - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gary D. Schmidt
Tags: Ages 12 and up
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would go so far as to call it mandatory," he said.
"Louisa will never come," said Henry.
"Then Louisa must prepare herself, because she must come," said Mr. Churchill.
"Louisa hardly comes downstairs anymore," said Henry. He didn't say that his father never went outside the house anymore, either.
Mr. Churchill shook his head. "The judge needs to see a family that has been forever changed by an egregious incident," he said. "Everyone must be there."
"Not 'forever,'" said Henry's mother. "Franklin is going to get well."
Mr. Churchill inclined his head to acknowledge this, but Henry could see that he didn't believe at all that Franklin was going to get well.
Henry wanted to smack his jowled face.
"Nevertheless," Mr. Churchill repeated, "you all must be at the hearing. Louisa as well."
So a week and a half later, Henry's parents and Louisa got into the BMW. Inside the carriage house, a yowling Black Dog was tied to the tool shelves. Henry figured the rope would keep her busy long enough for him to lug three bags of dry cement against the carriage house doors, then for him to scramble into the car, and then for the car to get out to the road. By that time, Black Dog would be at the carriage house doors, planning her escape. They left the service door to the house unlocked, since if Black Dog didn't get in that way, she would try to find another, more expensive, way in—maybe through the armorial windows, for example.
They drove out beyond the back gardens—
yowl, yowl, yowl
behind them—and along the driveway and past the cove, and Henry looked down on the bones of the ship, streaky with salt as they dried in the new sunlight. Members of the Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society had been at work on it, and now most of the backbone of the ship was naked and exposed, along with half a dozen orange barrel hoops, five cutlasses (whose placements were marked but which Dr. Cavendish had taken with him because Mr. Smith had let him—which was not Henry's recommendation), the long barrels of two small cannon, and the stout board along the backbone, whose chains and clasps were now cleaned of their seaweed coverings.
Henry put his hand up to his neck, and shivered.
He missed his kayak. He wished he were heading out in it now, on this green late-April morning, the waves swishing gently against the shore, each one bringing back a few grains of the sand that had been sucked away. He wished he could feel the waves rolling beneath him—the waves and the kayak and his body, one thing.
But instead, he was in the silent car, dressed as if for a Father Brewood sermon, driving in midday traffic, heading for the Manchester courthouse and Chay Chouan's pretrial hearing. His father, in the front passenger seat, was staring blankly out the window. Louisa, next to Henry, was pressed against the seat and already crying silently.
He wished he was in his kayak.
***
Mr. Churchill met them in the courthouse lobby and escorted them to a paneled waiting room that had only a single high window in it. He led Henry's parents in, and asked Henry and Louisa to wait outside for just a few minutes. He closed the door.
Louisa sat down on a bench in the hall, and Henry sat next to her. She was still silently crying—Henry figured that Mr. Churchill would be pleased at the effect. He reached over to take her hand, but she moved abruptly away from him and wrapped her arms around herself.
Henry looked at her huddled and tight shape. His heart almost stopped. He almost began to weep himself. But instead, he leaned over to her. "Do you remember watching
The Wizard of Oz
?" he said.
Louisa turned and looked at him.
"Whenever the Wicked Witch came, I'd hold your hand, and we'd duck under the blankets we'd rigged up between two couches. Remember? And we'd wait until the music changed. And when it did, that meant Dorothy and Toto were back on the Yellow Brick Road again. And we'd come out from the blanket fort."
Louisa nodded, even almost smiled. "And
"Louisa will never come," said Henry.
"Then Louisa must prepare herself, because she must come," said Mr. Churchill.
"Louisa hardly comes downstairs anymore," said Henry. He didn't say that his father never went outside the house anymore, either.
Mr. Churchill shook his head. "The judge needs to see a family that has been forever changed by an egregious incident," he said. "Everyone must be there."
"Not 'forever,'" said Henry's mother. "Franklin is going to get well."
Mr. Churchill inclined his head to acknowledge this, but Henry could see that he didn't believe at all that Franklin was going to get well.
Henry wanted to smack his jowled face.
"Nevertheless," Mr. Churchill repeated, "you all must be at the hearing. Louisa as well."
So a week and a half later, Henry's parents and Louisa got into the BMW. Inside the carriage house, a yowling Black Dog was tied to the tool shelves. Henry figured the rope would keep her busy long enough for him to lug three bags of dry cement against the carriage house doors, then for him to scramble into the car, and then for the car to get out to the road. By that time, Black Dog would be at the carriage house doors, planning her escape. They left the service door to the house unlocked, since if Black Dog didn't get in that way, she would try to find another, more expensive, way in—maybe through the armorial windows, for example.
They drove out beyond the back gardens—
yowl, yowl, yowl
behind them—and along the driveway and past the cove, and Henry looked down on the bones of the ship, streaky with salt as they dried in the new sunlight. Members of the Blythbury-by-the-Sea Historical Society had been at work on it, and now most of the backbone of the ship was naked and exposed, along with half a dozen orange barrel hoops, five cutlasses (whose placements were marked but which Dr. Cavendish had taken with him because Mr. Smith had let him—which was not Henry's recommendation), the long barrels of two small cannon, and the stout board along the backbone, whose chains and clasps were now cleaned of their seaweed coverings.
Henry put his hand up to his neck, and shivered.
He missed his kayak. He wished he were heading out in it now, on this green late-April morning, the waves swishing gently against the shore, each one bringing back a few grains of the sand that had been sucked away. He wished he could feel the waves rolling beneath him—the waves and the kayak and his body, one thing.
But instead, he was in the silent car, dressed as if for a Father Brewood sermon, driving in midday traffic, heading for the Manchester courthouse and Chay Chouan's pretrial hearing. His father, in the front passenger seat, was staring blankly out the window. Louisa, next to Henry, was pressed against the seat and already crying silently.
He wished he was in his kayak.
***
Mr. Churchill met them in the courthouse lobby and escorted them to a paneled waiting room that had only a single high window in it. He led Henry's parents in, and asked Henry and Louisa to wait outside for just a few minutes. He closed the door.
Louisa sat down on a bench in the hall, and Henry sat next to her. She was still silently crying—Henry figured that Mr. Churchill would be pleased at the effect. He reached over to take her hand, but she moved abruptly away from him and wrapped her arms around herself.
Henry looked at her huddled and tight shape. His heart almost stopped. He almost began to weep himself. But instead, he leaned over to her. "Do you remember watching
The Wizard of Oz
?" he said.
Louisa turned and looked at him.
"Whenever the Wicked Witch came, I'd hold your hand, and we'd duck under the blankets we'd rigged up between two couches. Remember? And we'd wait until the music changed. And when it did, that meant Dorothy and Toto were back on the Yellow Brick Road again. And we'd come out from the blanket fort."
Louisa nodded, even almost smiled. "And
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