The Boney Hand
Page 1
Copyright © 2019 by Karen Kane
Interior art © 2019 by Carlisle Robinson
Designed by Marci Senders
Cover art by Jose Sabatini
Lettering by Allison Grow
Cover design by Marci Senders
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN 978-1-368-04586-5
Visit www.DisneyBooks.com
For Linda Flick and Jerry Levy, of blessed memory
and
for Glenn Hulse, our miracle man.
And for their family and friends who love them.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1: Cute
Chapter 2: Library
Chapter 3: The Boney Hand
Chapter 4: Yes
Chapter 5: Sorry
Chapter 6: Bully
Chapter 7: Ready
Chapter 8: Chocolate
Chapter 9: Suspect
Chapter 10: Please
Chapter 11: Promise
Chapter 12: Who?
Chapter 13: Coffee
Chapter 14: Work
Chapter 15: Joking
Chapter 16: Shock
Chapter 17: Tree
Chapter 18: Charlie
Chapter 19: A Hearing Person
Chapter 20: Stubborn
Chapter 21: Right
Chapter 22: Horse
Chapter 23: Search
Chapter 24: Nothing
Chapter 25: Popcorn
Chapter 26: Help
Chapter 27: Mean
Chapter 28: Pay Attention
Chapter 29: Deaf
Chapter 30: Stand
Chapter 31: True
Chapter 32: Idea
Chapter 33: Proud
Chapter 34: Egg
Chapter 35: Great!
Chapter 36: Book
Chapter 37: Strong
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Myra and Alistair Tickler were trying not to be lousy parents. Really, they were. They were even reading books—parenting books—from the Castle-on-the-Hudson library. One book recommended something called quality time, which Mr. and Mrs. Tickler were spending right now with Charlie, who was wedged between them on the couch, as everyone waited for the commercials to be over and for Vince Vinelli’s Worst Criminals Ever! to come back on.
Everyone except for Grandma and Grandpa Tickler. They loved the commercials.
“Oh, it’s the cow that wears purple glasses commercial!” said Grandma Tickler from her E-Z chair recliner. “I love the cow with purple glasses!”
Grandma Tickler held a jar of jelly beans on her lap, eating them one by one. Whenever she found a black jelly bean, she gave it to Grandpa Tickler.
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa from his own E-Z chair recliner.
“That’s true, Irving,” said Grandma. “The cow really does see better with purple glasses.”
Most of the time, Grandpa Tickler only spoke one word: “ayuh.” “Ayuh” meant “yes,” but for Grandpa Tickler it could also mean a thousand other things. Luckily Grandma Tickler understood nine hundred and ninety-nine of them.
As for Charlie, he was trying to rehearse for tomorrow.
He had to do well tomorrow.
He didn’t want to think about what would happen if he didn’t do well tomorrow.
But it was hard to move his arms and practice his sign language with his parents sitting so quality-time close to him. Plus the criminals, their crimes, and the commercials were at full volume (even though the closed captions were on), making it hard for Charlie to concentrate.
“Vince Vinelli,” Mrs. Tickler remarked during the cow commercial, “seems like a very violent show to be watching during our quality time with Charlie. Don’t you agree, Alistair?”
“Indeed I do, Myra,” said Mr. Tickler. He held up the current book he was reading: How to be a Great Parent in Only Seven Days!
“This book clearly states that violent shows are not good for children. Or adults,” added Mr. Tickler. He wrote himself a note in his parenting notebook. He and Mrs. Tickler were learning how to be good parents to Charlie, and that meant lots of reading and note-taking.
Normally Charlie would have agreed with his parents—violent shows are not good for children.
But Charlie had to watch Vince Vinelli.
And there were lots of shows to watch, for in addition to the regular Friday night program, there were Vince Vinelli Special Edition! episodes as well.
When Vince Vinelli came back on, he leaned into the camera with a solemn look.
“Viewers, I want to take a short break from our worst criminals to ask you an important question.” Vince looked off in the distance as if gathering his thoughts. Then he nodded and returned his gaze to the camera.
“Have you ever,” asked Vince, “wanted to be a detective but didn’t know how to start?”
“Yes!” said Grandma.
“Ayuh!” said Grandpa.
“Well, stop wanting right now,” Vince told them. “Because for only nine dollars and ninety-nine cents you can buy Vince Vinelli’s When Crime Is a Fact, Good People Act detective kit. Inside this box is everything two people need to look like a pair of real detectives—for only nine ninety-nine!”
“Nine ninety-nine? That’s a bargain!” said Grandma. She put down the jelly beans, reached for the pencil and newspaper on the table next to her, and wrote down the phone number flashing on the screen.
“But, Grandma,” said Charlie, “it’s nine ninety-nine a month for twelve months. See the tiny words under the flashing numbers?”
Charlie stopped practicing long enough to do the math in his head. Turn the nine ninety-nine into a ten, and then multiply the ten by twelve.…
“That’s almost one hundred and twenty dollars,” said Charlie.
“And if you order right now,” continued Vince, “I’ll throw in a Vince Vinelli’s Good People Do Good Things certificate absolutely free!”
“Not absolutely free,” said Charlie, “because you still have to pay nine ninety-nine a month for twelve months.”
But Grandma Tickler wasn’t listening. Grandma Tickler loved to buy things advertised on television.
“Yvette!” Grandma yelled for their housekeeper. “Where’s my purse? Irving, we have to order that kit right now or we won’t get the Good People certificate. And we’re good people!”
“Stop shouting, Irma,” said Yvette as she came into the living room. “It’s right here.”
“You can’t buy that, Mother,” said Mr. Tickler. “It’s a waste of money!”
“But it’s their money,” said Yvette. “They can buy what they like—as silly as it might be.”
“It’s not silly!” said Grandma. “We need those detective outfits! How else are we going to fight crime?”
“You’re not,” said Yvette. “Just because someone looks like a detective that doesn’t make them a detective.”
But once again Grandma Tickler wasn’t listening. She reached for the phone next to her E-Z chair recliner as another commercial came on.
Yvette sat down in the rocking chair next to the couch.
“Has he read any letters yet?” Yvette asked Charlie.
“After these commercials,” said Charlie. “I hope.”
When Vince Vinelli had announced that he would be reading fan letters at the end
of each show, Charlie’s best friend, Frog, immediately began writing him a letter every day. Frog not only told Vince how much she loved his show, she also told him all about herself. Frog told him her dream was to become a detective. Frog couldn’t tell Vince that she already was a detective because she and Charlie had to keep the first case they solved a secret.
Charlie supposed that Vince Vinelli must get thousands of letters, but he still watched every episode, hoping Vince would read one of the letters Frog had sent. He knew how much it would mean to her.
Charlie continued practicing his sign language. He could see what he needed to do in his head. He just hoped his head would tell his hands what to do when the time came.
What would happen if his head forgot?
After the commercials about a skateboarding cat and a medicine that would help your headache but possibly paralyze you, Vince Vinelli’s Worst Criminals Ever! came back on.
“It’s now time,” said Vince, “for that special part of my show that viewers have come to love—Vince Vinelli Fan Letter Time!”
Charlie stopped practicing. “This is it!” said Charlie. “Fingers crossed!”
Charlie, Yvette, and Grandpa crossed their fingers. They always crossed their fingers at this part of the show. Even Grandma, who was waiting to place her order, crossed her fingers on one hand while holding the phone with the other.
“Why are we crossing our fingers?” asked Mrs. Tickler.
“For Frog,” said Charlie.
“Who’s Frog?” asked Mr. Tickler.
“His best friend,” snapped Yvette.
Charlie’s parents dutifully crossed their fingers, too.
“I love it when my fans write to me,” said Vince. “Of course, I mostly love it when they write about me.” Vince chuckled but quickly grew serious again. “Sometimes, though, my fans write about themselves. It’s important that I read those letters too, especially when the letters are from kids—”
Charlie squeezed his crossed fingers tighter.
“—because kids have dreams, just like adults do!”
In his mind Charlie signed “dream.” Ever since he had started at Castle School for the Deaf, Charlie thought about sign language all the time.
“And kids with dreams,” continued Vince, “have been writing me letters—”
Charlie held his breath.
“—such as this little girl who wrote me a letter—”
Charlie squeezed every single part of his body as hard as he could.
“—a little girl named—”
Say it, Charlie thought. Say Frog’s name.
“—Francine Castle!”
“FROG!” Charlie, Yvette, and Grandma Tickler screamed at the same time.
“AYUH!” yelled Grandpa Tickler.
Charlie and Yvette jumped up and down. Grandma waved the phone receiver around. Grandpa pumped a fist in the air. Mr. and Mrs. Tickler, unsure of what was happening, politely clapped.
Vince Vinelli held up Frog’s letter, written on her favorite frog stationery, in his very tan hands.
“Yes, viewers,” said Vince, “little Francine Castle, also known as Frog, wrote me a letter. Little Froggy told me her dream is to become a detective!”
Why did Vince Vinelli keep calling Frog “little”? Charlie wondered. And why was he calling her Froggy? Nobody called her Froggy.
Vince looked deeply into the camera. “Little girl, little Froggy, keep your little dream alive—”
Charlie desperately wished Vince would stop saying the word “little.”
“—because,” said Vince, “maybe, just maybe, you will become a detective someday. But if you order Vince Vinelli’s When Crime Is a Fact, Good People Act detective kit”—Vince flashed his blinding smile—“then you definitely will!”
The camera panned over to Vince Vinelli’s When Crime Is a Fact, Good People Act detective kit, sitting next to Vince in its bright red box. He gave the box a little pat.
“Viewers,” said Vince. “Little Froggy told me she is deaf and communicates in American Sign Language. So for little deaf Froggy I learned one sign—one special sign that describes her.”
Please, Charlie silently begged, let the sign be “powerful” or “amazing.”
Vince touched his index and middle fingers to his chin, thumb extended, and brushed his chin with his fingers twice. “Cute!” Vince Vinelli signed and then spoke.
“How nice!” said his mother.
“Very!” said his father.
“No,” Charlie groaned.
“Because,” said Vince, “that’s what this fan letter is, and that’s what you are, little Froggy—”
“Stop,” said Charlie.
“—very, very—”
“Don’t,” said Charlie.
“—cute!” Vince Vinelli signed it once more.
“So sweet!” said Mrs. Tickler.
“And such an honor,” said Mr. Tickler. “Vince Vinelli is very famous, you know.”
Grandma covered the phone with her hand. “Frog isn’t cute, is she, Irving?”
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa.
“I didn’t think so,” said Grandma.
“You know what Frog is?” said Yvette. “Frog is furious right now, that’s what Frog is.”
Charlie agreed. But at least, he told himself, Frog couldn’t hear Vince Vinelli’s tone of voice. But just then the TV captions included this at the end:
(Vince Vinelli is speaking in a voice that adults use to talk to very little children.)
Charlie sighed. Frog was definitely furious.
“We’ll be gone just two weeks this time,” Mrs. Tickler told Charlie the next morning as she closed her suitcase. “But don’t worry—we’ll keep up with our parental studies.”
“We’ll visit the library,” said Mr. Tickler. “There are wonderful libraries in Texas!” He made the sign for “library” by forming the letter L and circling it sideways twice.
“And wonderful bookstores, too!” added his mother. “We ordered some parenting books from Blythe and Bone Bookshop, but they haven’t arrived yet.”
“I wish they had!” said his father, glancing at the stack of library books on his nightstand. “Because Miss Tweedy said we’re not to take any library books across state lines.”
“I think,” said Charlie, “you’re allowed to take library books anywhere. You just have to return them on time.”
“Well, better safe than sorry,” said Mr. Tickler. He tucked his parenting notebook in his carry-on bag. “But I’ll continue taking plenty of notes, Charlie. We’ll get this parenting thing right yet!”
Charlie’s parents loved to travel everywhere and help animals. They had helped piping plovers in Montana, northern hairy-nosed wombats in Australia, and giant golden moles in South Africa. Now, however, even as they were preparing to leave again, they wanted to learn about children so they could also help Charlie. They were certain the answer could be found in books.
• • •
Grandma and Grandpa Tickler were in the kitchen eating breakfast, with a deck of cards waiting on the table when Charlie and his parents came downstairs.
“Good-bye, Mother. Good-bye, Father,” said Mr. Tickler. “We’re off to Texas!”
“Texas blind salamanders need our help,” said Mrs. Tickler. “Texas blind salamanders are too often ignored. We plan to give them plenty of time and attention!”
Yvette stopped washing dishes. She turned around to stare at Mrs. Tickler. Then she turned back to the sink, shaking her head.
“Well, take as long as you want,” said Grandma as she ate her oatmeal. “We love having Charlie here with us.”
“Ayuh,” said Grandpa. He reached over and patted Charlie’s hand.
“And we’ll be busy solving mysteries as soon as our detective kit arrives!” added Grandma. “Now, Charlie, you’ll have time for a game of cards before you leave for school, won’t you?”
Charlie nodded. “What game?”
“Concentration,” decided
Grandma.
In the card game Concentration, you laid out all fifty-two cards facedown on the table. Then you turned them over two at a time, trying to find a match. You had to remember where the cards were—see them in your mind even though they were facedown. Concentration required a lot of concentration, which Charlie did not have this morning. But Grandma Tickler loved to win, so it wasn’t a bad thing for him not to concentrate.
Charlie helped carry his parents’ suitcases outside. Herman, the wizened little driver, got out of his taxi, took one look at the size of the Ticklers’ suitcases, and promptly got back in.
Charlie loaded the suitcases into the trunk.
“I just realized something,” said his father as he closed the trunk lid. “Today is Saturday. Why are you going to school on Saturday?”
“Maybe Charlie just loves learning, Alistair!” said his mother. “I know I do!”
“No,” said Charlie. “I told you. Don’t you remember?”
Charlie had, in fact, told his parents many times. The problem was they didn’t write it down in their parenting notes, and it wasn’t in their parenting books.
“Tonight is the Fall Extravaganza,” Charlie reminded them. “I have to get to school early to practice and help set up.”
“How fun!” said Mrs. Tickler. “But you don’t look happy about it. In fact, you look worried. Doesn’t Charlie look worried, Alistair?”
Mr. Tickler peered into Charlie’s face. “Yes,” he decided. “He certainly does.”
“What do our parenting books say to do when your child looks worried?” asked Mrs. Tickler.
“I took notes,” said Mr. Tickler. “But my notebook is inside my carry-on bag, which is inside the trunk of the taxi. Should I get it out?”
“Dad—” Charlie tried to speak.
“Yes, you should,” said Mrs. Tickler. “This is a parenting moment, which means we need those parenting notes!”
“Mom, I’m—”
“Open the trunk!” Mr. Tickler called to Herman.
“Dad, I’m—”
“I think he’s asleep, Alistair.” Mrs. Tickler tapped on Herman’s window. Herman’s forehead popped off the steering wheel.
Charlie sighed. “You’re going to miss your flight,” he said.
Mr. Tickler looked at his watch. “You’re right, Charlie. We’d better get going.”