Beverly made the gesture to roll down the window.
Freddie looked all around the empty parking lot, and then she slowly rolled down the window.
“What do you want?” she said.
“I think you’re supposed to be out back,” said Beverly.
Freddie blinked. “Why?” she said.
“Because that’s the door that Jerome went out of,” said Beverly. “With the money.”
“Are you sure?” said Freddie.
“Yep,” said Beverly. “I’m sure.” She smiled. “Anyway, I think you might be too late. Charles — you know Charles, broken Charles, Charles who used to play football? — he’s out back. He’s probably already caught Jerome.”
Freddie slammed the truck into reverse and went screeching out of the parking lot.
Beverly stood there for a minute, still smiling.
It was hot.
She could smell the ocean and fried fish and exhaust. And underneath that, there was the smell of something else. What was it?
Turkey.
Christmas.
Doris and Iola must have put the turkey in the oven.
Beverly walked back behind Mr. C’s. She went past the kitchen and headed down to the water. She saw Charles’s cap — green against the blue. She walked closer and saw that Jerome was facedown in the sand. Charles was sitting on top of him, smiling.
He saw Beverly. He took his hat off and waved to her. “I got him!” he shouted. “I got him.”
“Good!” she shouted back. She stood and stared at the water, and at Charles sitting on top of Jerome, and suddenly, what Beverly wanted more than anything else in the world was to see Elmer’s face.
She turned around. She put her back to the ocean and headed up to the road. She turned left and started walking down A1A in the direction of Zoom City.
She walked past the phone booth, and then she turned and went back.
She opened the door and went inside.
The phone on the other end rang once, twice, three times.
“Hello?” said Raymie.
Beverly closed her eyes. She squeezed them shut. She was working to keep the tears in.
“Hello?” said Raymie again.
Beverly opened her eyes. “Remember when Louisiana disappeared?” she said.
“Beverly,” said Raymie, “where are you?”
“Remember how we went looking through the whole house,” said Beverly, “and there was this one room where the window was open and the window shade was kind of moving back and forth, back and forth in the wind?” She could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks.
“I guess so,” said Raymie. “Where are you?”
“That was the loneliest feeling in the world,” said Beverly.
“It was terrible,” said Raymie.
“I hated it. It was as bad as Buddy dying. It was as bad as my father leaving.” The tears were rolling off her face and falling onto her arms. She said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left without telling you anything. I wrote you a letter.”
“I never got a letter.”
“That’s because I haven’t mailed it yet.”
“I keep looking for you,” said Raymie. “And I go to Buddy’s grave. Every day since you left, I’ve gone back there.”
“Oh,” said Beverly. She started to cry even harder.
“Where are you?” asked Raymie again.
“Maybe you could come and get me,” said Beverly.
Raymie was quiet.
Something on the line crackled.
“Hello?” said Beverly.
“Tell me where you are,” said Raymie.
Beverly told her.
And then she hung up the phone and wiped the tears off her face. She tilted her head so that she could see the words scratched in the glass.
In a crooked little house by a crooked little sea.
She stepped out of the phone booth and started walking toward Zoom City. Before she even got there, she could hear the horse — the creak and grind of it moving up and down. She stopped and just listened to it, the noise of something laboring to go nowhere. She held herself very still.
And then she walked up to the store and looked at the kid on the horse. It was Robbie. The boy from the beach, the sandcastle kid.
“Hey!” he said. He stood with his feet in the stirrups. He pointed at Beverly. “You lied. You said you would come back, and you didn’t come back. We were going to finish that castle, but you never showed up.”
“Sit down, Robbie,” said his mother.
“I’ll be right back,” said Beverly.
“Liar!” said Robbie.
Beverly opened the door of Zoom City. She stuck her head inside. Mr. Larksong was at the counter.
Elmer looked up at her. He smiled.
“Hi,” she said. “We had a little bit of excitement down at Mr. C’s, but everything is fine. Everything worked out. I just wanted to remind you that we’re going to be eating soon. Why don’t you come, too, Mr. Larksong? There’s going to be a lot of food. It’s Christmas.”
“Christmas?” said Mr. Larksong. “It’s Christmas?”
“Yep,” said Beverly. “It is.”
She turned and went back outside. Robbie was still on the horse.
“I’m sorry,” she said to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up.”
She wondered if she was going to spend all day just apologizing to people.
“I don’t care,” said Robbie.
“Don’t be rude, Robbie,” said his mother.
“Do you like pie?” Beverly asked Robbie.
“What kind?” said Robbie. He narrowed his eyes.
“I think there’s going to be pumpkin. And apple. And maybe fruitcake. We’re having a big dinner down at Mr. C’s.”
“That’s a fish place,” said Robbie. “I hate fish.”
“Yeah,” said Beverly. “Me, too. But this isn’t a fish dinner. There’s going to be turkey. And something called ambrosia, which has got marshmallows in it.” She looked at Robbie’s mother. “It’s kind of a Christmas dinner. Mr. C’s is just down the street, if you want to — I don’t know — drop in or something.”
The horse creaked to a stop. Robbie sat and stared at her.
“See you around, okay?” she said.
And then she walked away from Zoom City. She thought that if Mrs. Deely popped out of the bushes, she would invite her to Christmas dinner, too. Maybe she would invite everyone she met.
When she got back to Mr. C’s, she went around back. The kitchen door was propped open, and the seagull was standing there — staring inside.
She stood with him. She stared inside, too.
Iola and Doris and Mr. Denby and Charles were all working in the kitchen.
Iola looked up and saw her first. She said, “There you are. I wondered where you got to. Charles caught that robber, caught him and got all the money back.”
“I know it,” said Beverly. “I saw it. It was heroic. Um, I invited some more people.”
“Well, that’s good,” said Iola. “That’s exactly what Christmas is all about.”
Beverly suddenly remembered that Raymie was on her way.
And Elmer, of course.
They would both be here soon.
Her heart lifted. Something inside of her fluttered. She turned and looked behind her. The sun was shining on the sea.
The crooked little sea.
“Get in here,” said Doris. “There’s work to do.”
The seagull lifted his wings. He let out a hopeful squawk.
“Not you,” said Doris. “I’m not talking to you.”
The seagull lowered his wings, and Beverly Tapinski carefully stepped around him.
She went inside.
Kate DiCamillo is the beloved author of many books for young readers, including two Newbery Medal winners: The Tale of Despereaux and Flora & Ulysses. She grew up in Florida and moved to Minnesota in her twenties, where homesickness and a bitter winter led her to write her first p
ublished novel, Because of Winn-Dixie. It was named a Newbery Honor Book, and she followed it with many other award-winning books, including two #1 New York Times best-selling novels about the Three Rancheros.
Kate DiCamillo was selected to be the National Ambassador for Young People’s Literature for 2014–2015. Of that mission, and on the power of stories, she says, “When we read together, we connect. Together, we see the world. Together, we see one another.”
For discussion guides and other resources for Kate DiCamillo’s books, please visit www.KateDiCamilloStoriesConnectUs.com.
Follow Kate DiCamillo on Facebook at Facebook.com/KateDiCamillo.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2019 by Kate DiCamillo
Cover illustrations copyright © 2019 by Amy June Bates
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2019
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2019939108
Candlewick Press
99 Dover Street
Somerville, Massachusetts 02144
visit us at www.candlewick.com
A JUNIOR LIBRARY GUILD SELECTION
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