I unlocked my door and found Frank hunched over and looking furtively around the hall. He thrust a baggie with two chocolate cookies at me.
“Take them. You need them more than I do. I’ve never seen your mom so mad.”
“You keep them,” I said. “I can handle her.”
“No. I want you to have them.” Frank’s voice shook. It took a lot for him to stand there in defiance of my crazy mother, so I took the baggie. “They’ll help. They always help,” he said.
“Cookies are always good.”
“Not just cookies. Your mom’s cookies.” Frank moved in closer, staring into my eyes intently.
“Dude, they’re just cookies.”
“No, they’re not. Your mom’s like really good at cooking.”
“Whatever.”
Mom yelled for Frank from somewhere outside.
“I have to go. Eat them before we come back. Don’t forget.”
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfect. You’re the one who’s in trouble.”
Frank ran down the hall and I heard the screen door snap closed. The crunching of gravel died away in the distance as the cars left for Shasta’s party. I stuck the baggie in my pocket and sat on my bed, listening to the birds chirp and picking at a scab on my knee. It was strange to be at Camp alone. I couldn’t remember ever being alone there before. The place was usually teeming with people and loud with their activities.
I wandered from room to room. It was both peaceful and lonely there by myself. My anger at Mom faded, but not my anger at Jason Greenbow and even Miss Pritchett for bringing him into Shasta’s life. When I got to Mom’s porch, I stuffed one of the rags she used for polishing her sculptures in my pocket. I knew exactly what to do. I’d find the exhaust port on Miss Pritchett’s roof and stick the rag with a bird’s nest down the hole, maybe some leaves and mud to make it look like an animal did it. I’d stuff it good and tight. Pretty soon their nasty-ass house would fill up with sewer fumes. I smiled at the thought of it. How long would it take them to realize what happened? It could be a few days since the seal wouldn’t be as good as stuffing it full of rags, but it could conceivably be considered an accident.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. I didn’t care anymore. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted Greenbow to know he was being screwed with. I’d make him understand that everything had consequences, especially hurting Shasta.
I cut a slice of bread, smeared it with butter, and set off for Greenbow’s house with the ravens trailing me. I walked straight toward the path and felt kind of good. I didn’t have to sneak off or wonder what to say if Mom asked where I’d been. Of course, she rarely asked where I’d been, not at Camp anyway, but I usually thought up excuses and diversions just in case. On that day, I was free to do as I pleased.
Distance slipped away under my feet. I kept an eye out for Beatrice, but saw no sign of her. The geese on the pond honked as I passed, hoping for a handout. I finished the last bite of bread and tossed the crust into the water for them to battle over. I went to the edge of the water. Thrushes liked to build their nests among the reeds and cattails. I found three abandoned nests and chose the largest. I coated the rag with mud and wrapped the nest in it.
As I turned away something caught my eye. The dock gleaming in the sun. For a second, I saw the shadows of my sisters, my friends, and cousins there. Perfectly arranged on the end of the dock, smiling, bronzed, and full of plans. I was there, too. Perfect. The way we should always be, but wouldn’t.
I turned away, missing them intensely, no longer thrilled to be alone. Then I headed into the darkness of the woods, half expecting the wind to greet me, but it didn’t. I was powerfully alone in my choice, but I never thought to turn back. I pushed my loneliness away and walked on. Once I got to Greenbow’s house, I could be in and out in under ten minutes. Jason Greenbow should be at work and I could get around Miss Pritchett, as dumb as she was, and get up on the roof with a quickness. It would only take a minute or two to fill the pipe and I’d be done. My idea was on par with any of Luke and Caleb’s. It might take Greenbow and Miss Pritchett a week or better to find out why their house smelled so bad. Maybe even longer. It took five lamps for Miss Pritchett to figure out somebody was mucking with them. I didn’t want to underestimate her stupidity. As for Greenbow, I had no idea how long it would take him. But he was a bully and a drunk, so I figured intelligence wasn’t his claim to fame.
When I got to the property line, I paused and waited for the wind to make an appearance. It didn’t. Then I stepped over the invisible line between two trespassing signs without a thought to my family’s rules. Only the blue jays in the trees reprimanded me.
As I walked through the woods toward Greenbow’s house, something changed, like when a barometer drops before a big storm. The air felt different, still and heavy. It felt weird, wrong. My stomach tied itself into a knot and I didn’t know why. I found the blackberry bramble and crouched behind it. The ravens landed and formed their usual half-moon. Then I heard it. Someone was crying, not very loud, but it was definitely crying. For a second, I thought about leaving. The feeling in the place was so bad, I knew I should, but I found myself transfixed by the sound, unable to move. So I stayed behind the bramble, waiting, because something was about to happen.