At last all the creamy goodness was gone and Wally gave a contented belch. He wiped his mouth and took his glass to the sink. He rinsed and dried the blender. He rinsed and dried the spoon and glass. He threw away the straw and wiped the countertop.
When Josh came into the kitchen looking for a snack, Wally said, “Mom says not to eat anything but fruit until suppertime.”
“Darn!” said Josh, and reluctantly picked up an apple.
Wally went into the living room and lay down on the couch, hands on his stomach, a smile on his face.
Mrs. Hatford was impressed.
“I’m really happy that you boys are doing something productive this summer!” she said as she passed a platter of cheeseburgers. Josh took two, Jake took three; Wally took one and asked Peter if he wanted half.
Potato salad came next, and Wally took a table-spoonful. Same with cole slaw.
“Wally Hatford, what did you have to eat this afternoon?” his mother asked.
“I didn’t eat anything,” Wally said, which was the truth in a way because you don’t eat a milk shake, you drink it. “I just had a really big drink. I guess that filled me up.”
Mr. Hatford was reading the article Jake had written about a college football game back in 1948.
“This is interesting!” he said. “I think a lot of old-timers are going to enjoy your newspaper, boys. Could be that some of the folks around here remember that quarterback.”
“I’m helping with the newspaper too, but they haven’t given me a job yet,” Peter complained. “They never let me do anything!”
“Tell you what,” said Josh. “You can go with Wally to take my cartoon over to the Malloys’ this evening. Eddie’s going to scan it into the newspaper.”
Wally bristled. “Why am I the one who has to deliver it to Eddie? Why don’t you take it over yourself?”
“You agreed to be the distributor, didn’t you?” said Jake. “Well … distribute!”
Wally sighed. Okay. All he had to do was walk across the footbridge, go up the hill, knock on the Malloys’ back door, and see that Eddie got the cartoon. He didn’t have to say anything but “Here. Take it.” He could be polite without having to be nice. Before any of the girls could say something at all that might lead to trouble, he would be home again, and no ghostly presence would find anything to hold against him.
It was almost eight-fifteen when Josh finished his cartoon, and it took fifteen minutes more to draw a decoration to go with Jake’s football story.
“If you want to go with me, Peter, get your shoes on,” Wally called.
Peter came clumping down the stairs in his sneakers, the laces flopping.
“Tie them,” said Wally. “You’ll trip.”
“Huh-uh!” Peter said. “I learned how not to trip on my shoelaces.”
“How’s that?”
“You walk with your legs apart,” Peter said, and demonstrated, teetering from side to side as the boys went down the front steps.
“Tie them!” Wally said.
Peter sighed. “O-kay,” he said, and knelt down to do it.
Dusk was settling in over the river, and pinpoints of fireflies sparkled along the bank. For some reason, Peter always spoke in a whisper when they were out at night, and he was whispering now.
“What if two of those fireflies were really wolf eyes looking at us, Wally?” he asked.
“There aren’t any wolves in Buckman,” said Wally, whispering back without knowing why.
“That’s what they said about a cougar, until they knew what it was,” said Peter. They continued on a little way and then he asked, “What about ghosts? Do ghosts eat people?”
Why did reminders of ghosts keep coming at him from all sides? Wally wondered. He had sat down the other night to watch a movie called The Fog People with Jake and Josh. Only Wally had thought they had said The Frog People. He had thought it was going to be about aliens, but it wasn’t. It was about ghosts. It scared him almost as much as the library book had, but the twins would have teased him if he’d gotten up and left the room.
“What made you think about ghosts?” asked Wally, his skin beginning to crawl.
“Because it’s the ghost hour. They come out at dark, right?”
“You don’t believe that, do you?” Wally asked.
“Yep,” said Peter.
“Well, they don’t eat people. They don’t have stomachs. They don’t even have mouths. That’s why they’re ghosts.”
Peter looked relieved.
The fact was, if that story in the library book was true, which it wasn’t, there were ghostly presences all around. He had a ghostly self. Peter had a ghostly self. And maybe, if he just narrowed his eyes and stared hard at Peter, walking on ahead, he could make out a sort of mist or cloud bobbing along above him. Wally narrowed his eyes and stared as hard as he could. Nothing.
The swinging bridge swayed as they started across. Peter ran his hand along the rope railing, taking it away each time they reached a support cable, then putting his hand back again. He counted each cable: “One … two … three …”
When they got to the other side, both boys cast wary glances at the tall brush on either side of the path that led up the hill to the Malloys’ backyard. Peter moved a little closer to Wally’s leg.
Suddenly Wally slowed and listened, his head cocked to one side. He heard something but couldn’t tell what. It sounded like a small motor. A long, low hum that was strung out for fourteen or fifteen seconds. Then, after a short pause, it continued on the same note.
Peter heard it too. Hesitantly, they started forward again, heads turning right and left to see if they could tell where the sound was coming from.
Then Wally came to a dead stop and grabbed Peter’s arm. For there, on the big rock on this side of the river, was a white apparition. A strange unearthly hum was coming from the ghostlike figure. Wally couldn’t tell whether it was male or female, human or beast. It was covered with a thin white film that fluttered slightly in the breeze.
Wally thought of the ghost in his summer reading book; the fog people in the movie, with their long fingers that you could see right through; the mysterious scratching, clawing, scraping sound beneath the floorboards in Mike Oldaker’s cellar. Suddenly he felt his feet turning, his legs moving, and before he knew it he was back on the swinging bridge heading for home at breakneck speed.
When he collapsed on the porch and turned to ask Peter if he had seen it too, Peter was not there. Peter had disappeared.
Eight
Peter Squeals
Now what? Caroline wondered, looking around. Maybe her aura was working and she was attracting people already.
It sounded as though someone had started up the path, then stopped, then run back over the footbridge again. Probably one of the Hatford boys spying on her, as usual. Caroline reached up and pulled the curtain off her head. There stood Peter Hatford, staring at her.
“I thought it was you,” he said.
“Really?” said Caroline. “Did you sense something unusual in the atmosphere, Peter?”
“No,” said Peter. “I saw your shoes beside the rock.”
“Oh,” said Caroline, disappointed.
“Why do you have a curtain over your head?” asked Peter.
“It’s a shawl,” said Caroline. “So who else is hanging around over here? Wally? The twins?”
“Wally thought you were a ghost, I think,” said Peter. “He went home.”
Caroline laughed. “So where were you going?”
“To your place,” said Peter. “I guess I’ll have to go by myself.”
“I guess so,” said Caroline. She slid down off the rock and picked up her sandals. She’d have to work on her aura another time, because it was always fun when Peter came over. He could be bribed with a couple of cookies to tell the girls almost anything they wanted to know. He followed her up to the house.
“Peter’s here,” Caroline called out as they went through the back door. Eddie and Beth we
re finishing the dinner dishes, and Caroline knew she’d have to do them the next night.
Beth grinned at Eddie. “And I wonder what he wants?” she murmured, hanging up the dish towel.
Peter walked over to the table and waited expectantly.
“So what’s up, Peter?” said Eddie.
“Nothing,” said Peter. “I’m helping Wally. We were bringing over the cartoon Josh drew for the newspaper.”
“Yeah? Where is it?” asked Eddie.
“Wallys got it.”
“So did he fall off the bridge or what?” asked Beth.
“I think he got scared by Caroline with the curtain over her head,” said Peter, his eyes traveling around the kitchen until they came to rest on the cookie canister.
“She’s enough to scare anybody, curtain or no curtain,” said Eddie. “What kind of cartoon did he draw?”
“I don’t know,” said Peter. “I just came along to keep Wally company.”
“Uh-huh,” said Eddie, and she and Beth and Caroline exchanged smiles.
Beth leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded over her chest. “Well, I don’t know if we have any cookies for you or not, Peter.”
“Yeah. We can’t give you cookies for nothing” said Eddie. “But maybe we could find some if you give us information in return.”
Peter sighed. “What kind of information?” he asked.
“Oh, any other secret plans your brothers might have for the newspaper,” Eddie said. “It was a dirty rotten trick to name the newspaper the Hatford Herald and put posters all over town without telling us.”
“Yeah. That’s what Jake said you’d say,” said Peter.
“So is there anything else we don’t know about?”
Peter thrust his hands into his pockets and frowned thoughtfully. “Like an ace in the hole?” he asked.
“Exactly,” said Eddie.
Peter frowned some more. “What kind of cookies?”
Beth reached around for the canister and checked. “Peanut butter chocolate chunk, your favorite kind.”
“Okay,” said Peter.
“First,” said Eddie, “what have Jake and Josh and Wally said about us? Are they okay with me being editor in chief?”
Peter climbed onto a kitchen stool. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Jake isn’t, anyway.”
“No? What has he said?”
Beth dug into the canister and held up a large cookie studded with chunks of dark chocolate. Eddie poured Peter a glass of milk.
Peter squirmed hard and pursed his mouth, trying to remember. “Um … he said … ‘That old hotshot Eddie doesn’t know about our ace in the hole if she gets too bossy’ ”
“Yeah? And what would that be?” Eddie said, putting the milk down in front of Peter.
“How many cookies do I get?” asked Peter.
“Three,” said Beth.
“Four,” said Peter.
“Okay, four. Now what’s their ace in the hole, Peter? What would they do?” Eddie asked.
“Strike,” said Peter, and took the first cookie.
Beth and Eddie and Caroline all stared at Peter.
“Strike?” said Eddie. “Hey, we’re not the ones who are getting summer reading credit for making a newspaper. We’ll probably be back in Ohio by September.”
Peter shrugged. “That’s what he said. Strike.” He swung his legs back and forth while he chewed. Beth put three more cookies on a saucer and set it before him.
“The problem,” Beth said, thinking it over, “is that your name is on it as editor in chief, Eddie. If the paper doesn’t come out…”
“It’ll come out if we have to do it all ourselves!” Eddie said hotly. “Besides, who said I’m bossy? Who said I’m not fair? I can be the unbossiest, most fair person in the world when I want to be.”
“That’s good,” said Peter, swinging his legs some more.
“Hello, Peter,” Mrs. Malloy said, coming into the kitchen with a pan full of peas she had been shelling in front of the TV. “How are things at your house?”
“Sort of boring,” said Peter. “I’m supposed to have a job on the newspaper and nobody lets me do any work.”
“Poor thing,” said Beth.
“Are you going to miss us if we move back to Ohio?” Mrs. Malloy teased.
Peter nodded.
“What will you miss the most?” asked Beth.
Peter looked down at the cookies in front of him and everyone laughed.
“I thought so,” said Eddie.
The phone rang just then and Caroline answered. It was Wally
“Is … is Peter there?” he asked.
“Peter … ?” Caroline paused, smiling at her sisters. “Why? Is he missing?”
“Caroline!” her mother said sternly.
“Yes, he’s here,” said Caroline.
Now it was Jake on the phone. “Let me speak to Peter,” he said.
“He’s got a mouthful of cookies, sorry,” said Caroline.
“Well, tell him to swallow,” said Jake.
Caroline turned to Peter. “Swallow,” she said.
Peter did. Then he drank some milk and took another bite.
“Okay, he’s listening,” Caroline said, and held the phone up to Peter’s ear, but far enough away that she and her sisters could hear too.
“Peter!” said Jake. “Don’t tell the girls anything. Do you hear me?”
Peter nodded.
“Are you listening, Peter?”
“Uh-huh,” said Peter, and went on chewing.
“Any thing!” Jake repeated. “Josh will take his cartoon over there tomorrow and you come on home. Now! And keep your mouth shut.”
“Okay,” said Peter.
Mrs. Malloy put the peas in the refrigerator for the next day’s dinner. “Caroline, when Peter finishes eating, walk him home, will you? He shouldn’t be crossing that bridge in the dark by himself. Take a flashlight.”
Peter finished the last cookie and rubbed his stomach contentedly.
“Come on,” said Caroline, and he followed her outside.
They went back down the path to the river, the beam from the flashlight leading the way. Caroline took the opportunity to ask, “If we move back to Ohio, Peter, what will you remember most about me?”
“I don’t know,” said Peter.
“Well, think. Does anything in particular come to mind? My face? My voice? My hair? My eyes?”
“Your elbows,” said Peter.
Caroline stopped and stared at him. “My elbows?”
“Yeah,” said Peter. “They’re sort of dirty. I think you lean your arms on the paper when you read the comics or something. Wally does the same thing and he gets dirty elbows too.”
Caroline did not care to walk Peter across the bridge. She shone the flashlight on the wooden planks till he was safely on the other side, and waited until she heard the door slam in the house across the river. Then she turned and went back home.
Her elbows! All this time she’d been going around with ink smudges on her elbows! The embarrassment! The humiliation! Now she’d have to do something really spectacular so that people would forget all about her elbows!
Nine
The Old Times Tribune
Wally was ashamed of himself. He had not meant to leave Peter behind. He had not even meant to run. He was enormously relieved when he called the Malloys and found out that Peter was there—eating cookies, as usual—but he was embarrassed to tell his brothers how it had happened. About all the ghosts that had taken a room in his brain.
“Don’t ever leave Peter alone with those girls, not even for a second!” Jake said. “You can never trust him to keep his mouth shut.”
“So what’s there to tell?” Wally asked.
“You never know, where Peter’s concerned. He picks up things like you wouldn’t believe,” said Jake.
So when the door banged and Peter finally came in, the three boys descended on him and spirited him away upstairs. They sat him on one of the
beds in the twins’ room.
“What did you do at the Malloys?” Josh asked.
Peter still had crumbs on his T-shirt. “Ate cookies,” he said, and held up four fingers.
“So what was on the rock?” asked Wally
“Caroline. With a curtain over her head,” said Peter.
Wally felt his cheeks grow warm. Doubly embarrassing. He had run all the way home because of that? It was useless, of course, to ask why Caroline had had a curtain over her head. It was useless to ask why Caroline did any of the things she did.
“Well, she sure fooled you, Wally,” said Josh. “What did you think she was? A ghost? Peter didn’t run.”
“ ’Cause I saw her shoes. I knew it was Caroline,” Peter told them.
Wally hadn’t seen any shoes.
“So how did you get inside their house, Peter?” asked Jake.
“Walked.”
“We know you walked! I mean, what did you have to do to get cookies?”
Peter shrugged.
“Did they ask you any questions?” Josh wanted to know.
“I guess so,” said Peter.
“What?”
“They wanted to know if you liked the idea of Eddie being editor in chief, and I said, ‘Not much.’ ”
“Yeah? What else?”
Peter shrugged again, this time holding his shoulders high for a second or two before he dropped them.
“What else?” Jake insisted.
“I didn’t say we would go on strike,” said Peter.
“Well, we won’t unless we have to,” said Jake. “What did you say?”
“I just said that was our ace in the hole.”
“Arrrrrgggghhhh!” cried Jake. “Peter, we’re trying for once to get along with the Malloys because we need to get this newspaper out. That’ll just make them mad! We should never have let you out of the house.”
“We should never have let you be part of the newspaper,” added Josh.
Peter was on the verge of tears. “Well, I’m not a part of the newspaper!” he said. “You didn’t give me anything to do.”
Wally felt sorry for his brother. It was Wally’s fault that Peter had been left behind, and that Caroline had taken him up to the house.
“It’s okay, Peter,” he said. “I’m going to make you my assistant, as long as you don’t go back to the Malloys’ till after the newspaper comes out.”
Boys Rock! Page 4