chapter 22

PERMISSION TO ENTER

Tell you what. I wash up for my supper and all I can do is think about that door.

At the supper table I say, “Hey, found a door in the hill. Out back of the house.” I jab my thumb to point so they know where I am talking about.

Shayleen yells, “Mason! You almost stabbed me with your fork!”

She is right. I forgot to put that down.

“The root cellar,” Uncle Drum says. “Hmm. Empty.”

Grandma says, “That hasn’t been used since the 1960s. I was a girl. They used to pack it with jars of peaches and pickles. Pumpkins and squashes. Bags of carrots and turnips.”

I say, “Yeah?”

Grandma nods. I like when she remembers old times. Old things about the crumbledown and the Buttle farm.

I say, “Can I go in there?”

Uncle Drum says, “If you can get it open.” He says it like he thinks I won’t. Not to be mean. It’s just what he thinks.

Shayleen sits there shaking her head. Like she knows anything.

I say, “But if I do?”

Grandma and Uncle Drum say what they usually say. “Suit yourself. Stay out of trouble.”

I nod my head and think. Staying out of trouble is pretty much what Calvin and I have in mind. We want to ditch the apple throwers.

Shayleen knocks me out of the thought. She pushes the roll of paper towels at me. She says, “Wipe down! We’re eating dinner, Mason! Ugh!”

I think this: We could be away from Shayleen too.

I am giving her a look when the phone rings. Her eyes cross. I get that. The ringer is so loud it could shake the plaster off the walls. Good thing we don’t get a lot of calls.

I pick up and guess what? It is Matt Drinker. Calling for me. You wouldn’t think this would happen. But it does.

He says, “Mason.” Because this is when he calls me Mason instead of something with butt in it. He says, “My mom wants you to come over tonight. For Moonie. She’s going out for a meeting.”

I say, “And you’ll be there?”

He says, “Yeah. But I’m busy. So you should come for Moonie. Be the dog-sitter. My mom will pay.”

I know what this is. I know because Moonie does not need a dog-sitter when someone is home. This is Matt Drinker being scared to be alone. Funny thing, the way he is. Like two different Matts in one dude. I will go down there and he will not be the apple-flinger, lacrosse-ball-stinger kid. He won’t whack me with a stick. And he won’t say much at all. He will play video games. He will tell me to have as many snacks as I want from the Drinkers’ pantry. Same place the yellow dog chips are. He will sit in the low game chair. Punch the buttons on his controller. He will pretty much ignore me. But Moonie won’t.

I finish supper and help clear. Then I go. I go a little bit for Matt’s mom. A little bit for the money. But mostly, I go to be with Moonie.

On my way down the hill I stop. I turn back to look at the wall of brambles. I think about that door in the hill. And the root cellar behind it. Try to imagine it in my brain.

I cannot wait to get in there.