Chance and the Butterfly Read Free Page A

was in a small room with a big window right in front of him. The curtains were open, revealing a few trees and the next house, gray and plain. In front of the window was a desk. It had a small black metal lamp on it, a red mug holding a few pens and pencils, a new box of pencil crayons and a thick pad of paper. A small backpack sporting the logo of the local basketball team hung over the back of the chair. To the right of the desk stood a bedside table and then a bed. The bed had a blue spread on it, same color as the curtains. Chance’s small suitcase and sports bag were sitting on top of the spread. Two posters were tacked onto the wall above the bed. One showed all the planets in orbit around the sun. The other showed the night sky, with the Big Dipper dead center. The bedside table had a clock radio and another black metal lamp.
    A card was propped up against the lamp. He hadn’t noticed it when Doug and Angie had shown him the room earlier. On the card was a picture of some men and boys fishing.
    Chance walked across to the bed and sat down. He put the cookies on the table and picked up the card. First he looked at the picture for a long time. It showed three men and two boys in a big rowboat. They were in the middle of a lake. Every one of them was sprawled in the boat, holding a fishing pole, some sort of hat pulled down over his eyes. Five fishing lines entered the still water. Mist rose gently into the bright sky. The cement in Chance’s throat threatened to crack.
    He opened the card. It was full of words. Happy words, he was sure. Welcoming words. He looked at the words for even longer than he had looked at the picture. Then he laid the card down flat, picked up the cookies and dropped them into the wastepaper basket beside the desk, lay down on the bed and turned his back to the room, the house, the crying baby, and the kind and happy people.

Chapter 4
    It felt to Chance as if hours passed while he lay there. The hands on the clock on the bedside table moved around and around, but round-faced clocks had never made sense to Chance. The baby’s wailing and screaming started and stopped, started and stopped. Feet traveled up and down the stairs and along the hallway. Twice they paused outside his door. The second time a gentle voice called his name, but he waited and the voice stopped, the feet passed on.
    The front door slammed soon after that. A boy’s voice called, “I’m home.” Then, “Is he here yet?” If any conversation followed, it was too quiet for Chance to hear.
    He was just wondering whether he should peek out the door, but was hating the idea, when the door opened and Doug stepped into his room. Chance felt the bed shift as Doug sat down.
    â€œI have a feeling that you’re awake,” he said, putting his hand on Chance’s ankle. Almost without knowing he was doing it, Chance kicked his hand off and scrambled to a sitting position at the head of the bed.
    â€œListen,” Doug went on as if nothing had happened, “I know it’s rough to come to a new house. But we want you to get off to a good start. The longer you hide out up here, the harder it will get. Now, up you get. Mark is downstairs, and I want you to meet him.”
    Chance picked up a cushion and started twisting at the button in its center. He wasn’t going down there to meet that boy. “Come on, Chance,” Doug said. Chance looked up, met Doug’s eyes for a moment, shook his head and turned his attention back to the cushion.
    â€œAll right. If you want to stay put, I can bring Mark up here to meet you. How about that?”
    Well, you had to give the guy credit. He didn’t give up, and he knew what was going on. Chance got off the bed and led the way out the bedroom door. But he waited at the top of the stairs for Doug to pass by.
    Mark was watching TV in the den. Chance looked him over. His hair was cut close to his head. Supposed to be tough, Chance thought.