Button Hill Read Free

exists…Very well. They can come, but only for the summer. And I shall do my best. ”
    â€œ That’s all I ask .”

    The first night in the old house, Dekker dreamed he could hear the wheels of the old clock clicking inside his head: tick, tock, tick, tock. In his dream, he stood at the base of a hill, at the foot of a rough-hewn stone bridge that that ran across a gorge. The gorge was dark, and he could not see what lay beyond. A full moon flooded the sky just above the horizon. The stars were out, but something was different about the way they shone, as if their light had frozen. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick.
    Dekker heard heavy footsteps running behind him. He was filled with a sense of dread he couldn’t explain. The clock began to toll the hour. Bong . He staggered as the vibrations shook him from side to side. Bong . The footsteps got louder, and now he heard a shout and ragged breathing. Bong.
    He whirled to face the pounding footsteps. Bong . The runner made an impossible leap over Dekker’s head, and was lit up by the moon for an instant, and then landed heavily on the bridge. Bong .
    Dekker turned back toward the bridge and something slammed into his back, knocking him to one side. He stumbled to his feet, ready to defend himself, but the girl who had run into him had already stopped at the edge of the bridge.
    â€œHarper?”
    Harper shook her head in disbelief. “He lied to me. I can’t believe he took it.”
    â€œTook what?”
    She turned to face him, but her eyes were out of focus, as if she didn’t really see him. “My music box. There.”
    Dekker looked where she was pointing, across the bridge. The shadow had disappeared into the dark on the other side, where the moonlight didn’t reach. He shivered, and this time it wasn’t just from the chill in the air. He saw that her cheek was bleeding. Bong. The clock echoed across the gorge. “Can you hear that?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s a Nightclock. I didn’t know any of those worked anymore.”
    â€œIt’s in my aunt’s cellar.”
    Harper nodded. “When I was little I lived with my mom. There was a big one in the city square.” She leaned against his shoulder as he stepped toward her. “That Cobb. I never should have listened to him.” Her skin was like ice, and the sweet apple smell of her hair was different somehow, as if the apples had started to rot.
    Dekker tried to imagine why someone would keep a clock made to look like bones, but he couldn’t think of anything that made sense. “Where—where does your mom live?” he asked.
    Harper took a step toward the bridge and pointed. “Over there, in Nightside, beyond the dark. Something happened to her when I was little, and I had to go live with my dad. Cobb said he had a message from her, but he tricked me into giving him my music box and now he’s gone.”
    â€œWhy does it matter? It’s just a music box,” said Dekker, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
    Harper whispered, “Because she gave it to me. I used to think it was better, living in Dayside with my dad.”
    Dekker’s few memories of his own father surfaced unbidden: the scratch of his whiskers, the smell of his old leather jacket. He had died when Dekker was so young that these snatches of memory were all that remained. “You must miss your mom,” he said. She nodded, and Dekker pulled her back from the bridge. Something about the situation felt very wrong. “We should leave,” he said. Harper said nothing, but with great effort put one arm around his shoulder and stumbled along beside him up the hill.
    The climb was very hard. A wind dragged against their arms and legs as they trudged toward the top. A lump grew in Dekker’s throat when he thought about what might happen if they just stopped, if they let the wind push them back down to the bottom and into the gorge. He tried not