“All right,” said Clarice, adding, “How soon can you talk to them?”
“Not soon,” said Toby, glancing over at Goldie in his jar that sat on one of the fireplaces.
“Too bad,” said Clarice. “I guess it won’t work out then.”
“Why?” Now Toby hesitated. He didn’t want to miss the chance to do something good for the others, like fixing up the Castle.
“I need to do this photo shoot today. Benicio’s arriving at my office any minute.” Clarice turned to go. “I bet your brother and sisters would have liked to have a nicer place to live.”
Toby looked down at Penny, who was holding her arms out to Clarice like she wanted to be picked up.
“I think she likes my offer,” Clarice said, pointing at the baby.
“She likes your car,” said Toby. Then he said, “How much money would you give us?”
Clarice waved into the air vaguely. “Enough to repair this dump completely.”
“A hundred dollars,” said Toby. It sounded like a large sum to him, and he figured they’d be able to do all the fixing up that they wanted with that much money.
“Fine,” said Clarice, frowning at the baby but reaching down to pick her up.
“I’ll carry her,” said Toby.
“Oh,” said Clarice. “You don’t need to come with us.”
“Are you kidding?” Toby almost shouted. “Of course I’m coming with you. I’m not letting her go on her own.”
Clarice grimaced and didn’t say anything. She seemed to be reconsidering the whole plan, but she shrugged and said, “Fine. All right. But hurry along, I don’t have all day.” She turned away, then added, “And don’t bring that goldfish. He’s too much trouble.”
This infuriated Toby, but he thought that if he contradicted Clarice, she might just decide he wasn’t invited after all. He glanced over at Goldie. Sorry, he thought, because he knew Goldie could hear his thinking. I’ll be back soon. He grinned at the fish, but Goldie did not smile back at him. Toby knew Goldie was thinking that what Toby was about to do was a very bad idea. Again, Toby hesitated. Should he listen to his friend? He let out a large sigh and made his decision. He had to go with Clarice. He had to make the Castle better. For everyone.
Patting the lid of the jar as if he were patting the fish on the back, he thought, When I get that money, I’ll get you a bigger jar. He looked away before Goldie could think anything else at him, and he scooped up Penny, lifting her onto his shoulders. He would carry her down the mountain to the parking lot, where he was sure Leon would be waiting in the limousine to take them to the Royal Palm hotel. What Toby couldn’t know was that Clarice had no intention of going to the hotel because she had an entirely different destination in mind, because she had an entirely different plan for Penny.
CHAPTER
14
Kimo planted his pole in the pit and stepped back to measure just exactly where his foot would need to be for the pole to land properly, then he turned to walk backwards up the track, counting his steps. He had done this many times before; he knew that there were seventeen strides from the top of the track to the spot where he would plant the pole and then flip himself up into the air and over the bar. He had been visualizing his run for days, and he pictured it again now as he walked up to the top of the track where Ms. Bonicle was standing waiting for him. All the other pole-vaulters had already gone. It was Kimo’s turn.
The bar was set at fifteen feet, two inches, the new island record. If Kimo went over it, he would not only be the island record holder but the youngest island record holder ever! Was it too much to hope for?
The bleachers were packed with faces: some had smiling mouths, some had talking mouths, and some had mouths full of fried clams that Kimo could smell wafting on the breeze, a breeze that would help him with his run down the track. As he walked up the track, counting his seventeen strides, he let his eye run along the row of faces of the people seated in the front row of the bleachers. No bearded man, no Johnny Trout. His father wasn’t in the bottom row. He ran his eye along the second row of bleachers—there were two bearded men, but neither of them was Johnny. He did this for the third, fourth, and final rows of the bleachers, but to no avail. His heart clenched and his gut churned like there were snakes in his stomach as he realized that his father was not in the crowd.
Someone shouted his name from the top row: “Ki-mo! Ki-mo!” He turned to see Mr. Knuckles and Asha waving to him. Then a group of students who Kimo knew from his class took up the chant, calling out, “Ki-mo, Ki-mo, Ki-mo, Ki-mo.” Others joined in, and by the time Kimo took the last stride into his spot at the top of the track, the whole crowd was shouting his name. Kimo waved and smiled and the snakes in his belly dissolved. He felt a surge of happy possibility. How he wished his brother and sisters were watching and cheering. There had been no point in keeping them away, since Johnny Trout hadn’t come.
“Are you ready?” Ms. Bonicle had to shout into Kimo’s ear to be heard over the noise of the crowd. Kimo thought about his father and wondered if he should wait. What if Johnny showed up right after Kimo had jumped?
“One more minute,” Kimo said.
Ms. Bonicle nodded, then hollered into his ear again. “Take your time. Enjoy this.” She meant the encouraging shouts of the crowd. Kimo smiled again, but inside he wasn’t smiling. He was thinking about Johnny. Where was his father now? He’s probably tossing meatballs to that pig of his and watching the pig jump in the air. He’s probably forgotten all about my jump. “You’ve got natural ability and you’ve worked hard,” his coach was yelling. “Just do your best. Swish, swish, pop, zow-wee! Remember?”
“I remember,” Kimo said. Now or never, he said to himself, stepping away from his coach and into the spot where he would begin. He lifted the pole up into position. As if the pole were a wand casting a spell, the crowd fell into a hush. No one said a word. Even the birds had stopped singing. I wish Kim was here, Kimo thought. I wish Pippa and Toby and Penny were here. But he chased these thoughts into the back of his mind.
He took a deep breath and began to run. Keeping his knees high, he sprinted toward the bar. One, two, three, four…he was counting his strides to the spot where he would plant the pole. Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…a man emerged from the parking lot and stood at the gate. Even as he ran, Kimo registered the man’s grimacing, unpleasant face, framed by a shaggy beard. Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…it was Johnny Trout, standing right there. My father came to see me break the record…as Kimo had this thought, he forgot to plant his pole in the pit. By the time he remembered, his pole was so far forward that he launched himself into the space directly under the high bar.
There was nothing he could do to stay out of the way of the bar. Nothing he could do to clear fifteen feet, two inches.
The bar was knocked from its rest.
The crowd gave a groan as Kimo tumbled down onto the foam mat and the bar fell down on top of him. The record was not broken.
Embarrassed, Kimo lay there, staring up at the sky, where clouds trundled past, indifferent to his loss. His nostrils flared as furious thoughts swirled in his head. He was angry with his father for showing up just then and distracting him, but he was even angrier with himself for losing focus.
The very thing that he had hoped his father would see—the highest pole vault ever—had been destroyed by his father’s arrival.
Why had he invited his father in the first place? He felt tears squeezing out of his eyes as into his blurry view stepped Johnny Trout.
“Hey, kid,” the old pirate said.
“Hi.” Kimo’s voice wavered. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“You didn’t break the record,” Johnny said.
“No,” said Kimo, sitting up on the foam mat and looking at Johnny. He felt then that if his father said even one kind thing, everything would be
okay and it would all be worth it: all the training, even the humiliation of failing to break the record would be worth it for this chance to talk to his father face-to-face. “No, I didn’t,” Kimo said.
“People said you were good at this pole vaulting thing.” Johnny shrugged. “Boy were people wrong. My pig could jump higher than you did.”
So that was it. What a terrible thing to say. Kimo watched his father turn and start back toward the gate that was crowded with people returning to their cars in the parking lot. He wanted to shout something at his father, something about how he was absolutely sure no pig on earth could jump fifteen feet, two inches. But what would be the point of calling out Johnny’s absurd brag about his pet?
And that was when Kim appeared. She had seen it all from her perch in the trees and she wanted to tell Johnny how hard Kimo had worked and how good he was at pole vaulting and that the only reason he hadn’t broken the record was because Johnny had ruined his attempt. But when she stepped in front of Johnny and poked her finger into the part of Johnny’s chest where his heart would have been if he’d had a heart and opened her mouth, nothing came out. Nothing.
She opened and closed her mouth again. She felt strangled, her words cut off. Her head was whirling, and she remembered her teacher telling her that to become good at public speaking, she would need to practice. This is practice, she thought, but still no words emerged.
Johnny was staring at her with an amused look on his face. After a minute he said, “Cat got your tongue?”
“Doesn’t…cat…no,” Kim squeaked.
Johnny laughed and shouted loudly enough that a couple of people stopped to watch. “You need somebody to do your talking for you. Where are the others? There’s never just one of you brats.” He scanned the crowd filing out of the gate. “Where’s the one with the freckles and the temper? She’s good at yelling. Or the goldfish boy? Or that shrimp with no teeth?”
She’s a baby, Kim wanted to say, and she has three teeth. But instead of the words rushing out of her, she felt worry rushing into her. She realized that she didn’t know exactly where the others were. An alarm began to sound deep inside her, an alarm that said, You need to find the others. You need to know where they are. But she didn’t have time to register this alarm because Johnny was saying, “I can’t wait to get my hands on that boat. I’m sure it’ll be mine soon.” He gave a big grin and started off.
Watching him leave, Kim felt the worry and the words combine into a force so powerful that they did finally explode out of her. And the words that came out were, “Napkin in your lap and elbows off the table!”
Just at the moment she had hoped to chastise Johnny Trout for his treatment of Kimo, she found herself instead shouting some of the words about table manners that she had memorized for her speech.
Johnny Trout didn’t even turn to look at her; he just walked away. It was utterly humiliating.
But then she looked over and saw Kimo sitting slumped on the foam mattress and she understood that her own humiliation was nothing compared to what he had just been through in front of the crowd at the track meet. “He ruined your chances.” Kim plopped down on the mattress next to him.
The boy looked over at her. “I thought if I jumped well, if I broke the record, he’d be proud of me and maybe, just maybe, he’d give us our boat back.”
“No matter how high you jumped, he would never do that,” said Kim. “He’s too terrible. You can’t change him.”
“I thought I could,” said Kimo.
“That’s because you could never be terrible,” Kim said, getting to her feet. “So you can’t even imagine someone like him.” She noticed how easy it was to speak now that her audience was just her brother. She pulled him to his feet and folded him into a hug. “You’ll try again,” Kim said. “And next time we’ll be there to give you good luck.”
Kimo could see Ms. Bonicle standing at the top of the track talking to one of the other coaches. He knew he should go and talk to her, but he didn’t feel up to it yet. “Thanks for trying to yell at him,” Kimo said.
“Where’s Pippa when you need her?” asked Kim, and that’s when she finally registered the alarm that Johnny Trout’s words had set off deep inside her. Where IS Pippa? she thought. “We have to go find her,” Kim said. “I’m worried that something’s happened.”
Still regretting his decision not to have invited the others, Kimo agreed they should return to the Castle right away. He wanted to put this day behind him by hanging out with his siblings.
But when they emerged from the woods near the Castle, only Pippa was waiting for them. She was pacing back and forth, wearing a path through the moss. “Hey,” Kimo shouted. “We’re home.”
Pippa looked up at them and Kim saw from the expression on her sister’s face that she was worried. “Everything okay?” Kim asked.
“Toby and Penny,” Pippa said, her eyes wide open, her mind reeling with awful possibilities. “They’re gone.”
CHAPTER
15
Where did they go?” Kim shook her head in disbelief.
“That’s the thing.” Pippa’s voice cracked, and the freckles on her face seemed to throb. “I don’t know. I just got back a couple minutes ago.” Kim noticed that the little girl’s glasses were fogging up. Kim couldn’t remember ever having seen Pippa cry.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” said Kimo. “Just swimming or picking guavas or something.”
But Pippa shook her head and slide her backpack off. She reached into it and pulled out two pieces of bone. She held them out to Kim and Kimo and explained that they were scrimshaw from Captain Baker’s collection. She told the story of finding the first piece and then deciding she needed more. She confessed that she had been slipping off at night. “I was lying,” she said, putting her face in her hands.
“Now you’ve told us,” said Kim. “You’ve come clean.”
“I guess I see why you kept them a secret,” said kindhearted Kimo. “They’re beautiful. You wanted to have something all your own. Don’t worry about it.”
“But Penny and Toby…” Pippa trailed off. “They’ve disappeared and it’s my fault.”
“None of this means anything has happened to them.” Kimo patted his little sister on the shoulder. “They’ll be back.”
“No,” Pippa said. “I didn’t tell you the worst part.” And then she told about the prints she’d found—the scythe-shaped prints—that belonged to the monster, the rustling monster. “I should have said something,” Pippa choked out. “What if the monster’s taken Toby and the baby?” Pippa pointed at the door to the Castle. “The web’s broken,” she said. “Toby wouldn’t break the web.”
And that is when Kim’s heart stopped in her chest. She knew that what Pippa had said was true. “What have I done? What have I done?” Kim pressed her face into her hands, then looked up and spoke in a whisper. “Do you think that a ghost can make rustling noises and leave footprints?”
“A ghost?”
“People say that Captain Baker’s ghost roams the mountain. I read it in my textbook. I didn’t tell you guys ’cause I didn’t want you to want to leave the Castle.”
Pippa and Kim stood there in horror, imagining Toby and Penny in the clutches of a rustling, scythe-footed ghost until Kimo very reasonably said, “How can a ghost leave footprints? Ghosts are made of air or ghost dust or slime or something.”
“I don’t even think that I believe in ghosts,” said Kim. “But something made the noises that we heard.”
“And something left the prints,” Pippa said, staring down at her own feet.
“Wizzleroaches,” Kimo said, uttering the name of the thing that frightened him most.
“Wizzleroaches don’t leave big prints,” said Kim. “They don’t have big feet.”
“Don’t talk about their feet!” Kimo shouted, already getting that creepy-crawling feeling
in his belly.
“Okay,” said Kim, trying to reason through things calmly. “All right. Let’s talk about other feet. If Toby and Penny were taken by something, then there would be prints around here, wouldn’t there?” Without another word, the children examined the floor of the Castle, looking for more prints, but the moss was so spongy that if any monster had walked there, no prints showed.
“Maybe there are some outside,” Kim said, already heading back to the door, and that’s when she saw something that made her scream. Pippa saw it too. It was Goldie, sitting in his jar on one of the fireplaces. Now they knew for certain that something was terribly wrong, because if Toby were just picking guavas or swimming or anything else, he would have taken the goldfish with him. They raced to the door of the Castle to begin searching for more prints, but as they headed out of the house and into the woods that surrounded it, they saw a figure on the other side of the purple field of orchids.
It was a little boy in shorts and a torn T-shirt, emerging from the distant trees. They recognized those shorts and they knew that T-shirt. Both belonged to Toby. But the face was not quite Toby’s face. It was too pale and too shaken. It was, in a word, ghostly. And that’s when Kim, Kimo, and Pippa all had the same thought—that the rustling ghost-monster had taken Toby and devoured him and that what they were looking at was Toby’s ghost.
Without hesitation, Kim proclaimed, “Ghost or not, he’s still our brother.” Kimo and Pippa clearly agreed because they all charged across the field at a sprint. But when they got to Toby, they found that he was not a ghost at all. He was a real, live boy, and he was very scared. Between gulps of air, he told them that he’d been on the other side of the island, that something awful had happened, that he’d gotten a ride back to the mountain, and that he had run all the way up it in hopes of finding them. “Come on,” he said breathlessly, pulling at their hands. “We have to go now! We have to run!”
Shout Out for the Fitzgerald-Trouts Page 12