Read Online Walls within Walls by Maureen Sherry - Free Book Online
Authors: Maureen Sherry
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dinner tonight?â Mrs. Smithfork said brightly.
âOh what a lovely invitation,â said the older woman. âPerhaps another time?â She seemed surprised byAnne Smithforkâs spontaneity.
âOh, I understand,â said Mrs. Smithfork as the chicken started to smoke. âWeâll see you again.â
âYes, good-bye.â
âYes,â said Mr. Smithfork, looking a little defeated. âAnd weâll keep the noise level down.â
The older lady nodded and grinned and went back to the elevator, with Annika trailing behind her.
C HAPTER 10
At one the next morning, CJâs alarm clock went off. He wasnât sure why he felt this way, but he wanted to be alone when he examined the hearth in his dadâs office. In a family like his, the middle of the night was the only time he could do that. He tiptoed to the office, noticing three partially filled coffee cups. It looked like his dad had spent a long night laboring over problems with his LeCube company.
Since Bruce Smithforkâs screen saver was still glowing, CJ figured his father must have just left the room. CJ sat in the office chair and watched the words DigiSpy, a division of the LeCube Company form a swirling cyclone on the screen. This was the new spy game his dad was inventing. Every time CJ asked if he could test it out,Bruce Smithfork would say, âWait till itâs through my testing department.â CJ could feel his insides deflate when that happened. His dad seemed to forget that CJ had once been his testing department. Now Bruce Smithfork employed people who had gone to college for that stuff, experts at making people want to buy his gaming system.
As CJ leaned back in his dadâs chair, he noticed a poem etched into the wall above Mr. Postâs built-in desk. It read:
The thief left it behind:
the moon at my window.
â Ryokan (1758â1831)
Wonder why he had that there? CJ thought. That Post guy was just crazy for poetry. Weird.
He glanced out the office window, looking for the moon, but it was black outside, except for the lights of the surrounding buildings. Using just his flashlight and the blue light from the computer screen, he examined the fireplace. Nothing seemed amiss or unusual. He moved his hands up and down and felt nothing. The tiles seemed to be laid evenly, the cement holding them together perfectly aligned. He tried again, this time pushing each tile just in case there was a spring behind one of them. Nothing. CJ lay down and flashed his lightup the chimney, seeing only blackness and a tiny dot of night sky.
Sadly, thought CJ, this night will give way to another day, and that day is one day closer to Saint Jamesâs School. How he wished he were back in Brooklyn. He realized they might not have time to visit Grantâs Tomb before school started, but who cared? He didnât care about the Post mystery anymore. He didnât care that his family was suddenly wealthy. He felt scared about his new life, this new neighborhood that came with so many rules. And that was the last thing he thought before falling asleep right there on the floor. He slept soundly with his head under the fireplace flue, his legs sticking out into the room.
It was dawn when his father came into the office. âFall down the chimney, CJ?â he asked casually, grabbing some papers off his desk. By the time CJ could get his eyes open, Bruce Smithfork was gone. He had not even waited to hear the answer. CJ lay on the floor, dazed, rubbing his eyes while listening to his dad shut the front door, leaving to beat the rush to midtown Manhattan. There is nothing to wake up for, thought CJ, and he drifted back into a thick sleep.
The next time CJ woke, bright sunshine was everywhere. He could hear Maricel shooing Carron off the tricycle as she rode up and down the main hallway. CJ lay there figuring out what to do with his fourth-to-lastday of freedom. Maybe he would jump onto the A train,
âOh what a lovely invitation,â said the older woman. âPerhaps another time?â She seemed surprised byAnne Smithforkâs spontaneity.
âOh, I understand,â said Mrs. Smithfork as the chicken started to smoke. âWeâll see you again.â
âYes, good-bye.â
âYes,â said Mr. Smithfork, looking a little defeated. âAnd weâll keep the noise level down.â
The older lady nodded and grinned and went back to the elevator, with Annika trailing behind her.
C HAPTER 10
At one the next morning, CJâs alarm clock went off. He wasnât sure why he felt this way, but he wanted to be alone when he examined the hearth in his dadâs office. In a family like his, the middle of the night was the only time he could do that. He tiptoed to the office, noticing three partially filled coffee cups. It looked like his dad had spent a long night laboring over problems with his LeCube company.
Since Bruce Smithforkâs screen saver was still glowing, CJ figured his father must have just left the room. CJ sat in the office chair and watched the words DigiSpy, a division of the LeCube Company form a swirling cyclone on the screen. This was the new spy game his dad was inventing. Every time CJ asked if he could test it out,Bruce Smithfork would say, âWait till itâs through my testing department.â CJ could feel his insides deflate when that happened. His dad seemed to forget that CJ had once been his testing department. Now Bruce Smithfork employed people who had gone to college for that stuff, experts at making people want to buy his gaming system.
As CJ leaned back in his dadâs chair, he noticed a poem etched into the wall above Mr. Postâs built-in desk. It read:
The thief left it behind:
the moon at my window.
â Ryokan (1758â1831)
Wonder why he had that there? CJ thought. That Post guy was just crazy for poetry. Weird.
He glanced out the office window, looking for the moon, but it was black outside, except for the lights of the surrounding buildings. Using just his flashlight and the blue light from the computer screen, he examined the fireplace. Nothing seemed amiss or unusual. He moved his hands up and down and felt nothing. The tiles seemed to be laid evenly, the cement holding them together perfectly aligned. He tried again, this time pushing each tile just in case there was a spring behind one of them. Nothing. CJ lay down and flashed his lightup the chimney, seeing only blackness and a tiny dot of night sky.
Sadly, thought CJ, this night will give way to another day, and that day is one day closer to Saint Jamesâs School. How he wished he were back in Brooklyn. He realized they might not have time to visit Grantâs Tomb before school started, but who cared? He didnât care about the Post mystery anymore. He didnât care that his family was suddenly wealthy. He felt scared about his new life, this new neighborhood that came with so many rules. And that was the last thing he thought before falling asleep right there on the floor. He slept soundly with his head under the fireplace flue, his legs sticking out into the room.
It was dawn when his father came into the office. âFall down the chimney, CJ?â he asked casually, grabbing some papers off his desk. By the time CJ could get his eyes open, Bruce Smithfork was gone. He had not even waited to hear the answer. CJ lay on the floor, dazed, rubbing his eyes while listening to his dad shut the front door, leaving to beat the rush to midtown Manhattan. There is nothing to wake up for, thought CJ, and he drifted back into a thick sleep.
The next time CJ woke, bright sunshine was everywhere. He could hear Maricel shooing Carron off the tricycle as she rode up and down the main hallway. CJ lay there figuring out what to do with his fourth-to-lastday of freedom. Maybe he would jump onto the A train,
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