Murphy & Mousetrap Read Free Page B

large hands holding him firm. She was tall and round and when she hugged him he sank into her chest.
    Albert and the other boys followed Murphy into the house and leaned against the wall by the door. They watched the newcomers’ every move as if they expected something to happen.
    â€œYou must be hungry,” Grandma said to Mom.
    â€œYeah,” Mom said. “What’s for supper?”
    â€œClam chowder. That’s all I had time to cook.” Grandma lifted a huge pot from the stove and placed it on a towel that was folded on the table. She set a stack of bowls, a pile of spoons and knives, a plate of fried bread, a pot of jam and a tub of butter next to the soup.
    Murphy was starving. For a few minutes, he forgot about Mousetrap and the boys who leaned against the wall. The warm food slid into his stomach and made it stop turning over and over.
    â€œYou boys get over here and help yourself,” Grandma told Albert and the boys. “These are your relatives, Murphy. Danny stays here with me.” She pointed to the shortest of the three boys. But he was still taller and bigger than Murphy. “You already know Albert,” Grandma continued. “And Jeff is your Auntie Maggie’s son. They live across the field.”
    The boys shuffled up to the table, forming a line behind Albert. Between mouthfuls, Murphy looked them up and down. Heimagined himself making the fourth boy in the line. Up and down he was the shortest by at least a head. Side to side he was only half as wide as any one of them. They had square shoulders like full-grown men, even though Murphy knew they weren’t any older than eleven or twelve.
    All three boys had thick spiked black hair. Albert’s hair was dyed yellow at the tips. Their skin was darker than chocolate. Murphy glanced at the pale skin on the thin fingers that clutched his spoon and then at Albert’s hand scooping fried bread from the plate. He peered at his own feet laced neatly into hiking boots, and then caught a glimpse of Albert’s feet scuffing across the kitchen floor in enormous running shoes with wet laces dragging behind. They might be relatives, but there wasn’t one thing similar about them.
    Albert stuffed the soccer ball under his arm and balanced his food with the other as he disappeared into the living room.
    â€œWhy don’t you go sit with the boys in the other room, Murphy?” Mom asked.
    Murphy wagged his head and said, “I’m okay here.”
    He pushed his chair against the wall and wound his body around his food until he was as small as he could get. He chewed quietly and listened to Mom and Grandma making plans.
    â€œYou and Murphy will be fine downstairs,” Grandma said. “You can fix it up however you want. The bathroom needs a little work.”
    â€œWhat about the kitchen?” Mom asked.
    â€œYou can eat up here with us,” Grandma said.
    â€œMom, you said there would be a kitchen,” Mom said. Her voice sounded high and stretched like it did when she came home late from work and she was tired.
    â€œIt’s not done.” Grandma spooned more soup into her bowl. From the sound of her voice the kitchen wasn’t a big deal.
    â€œMom,” Mom’s voice cracked. “You said.”
    â€œWe’ll get it done,” Grandma said. “You’ll be fine up here.”
    Mom put her spoon down and chewed steadily on her bread.
    â€œI’m going downstairs. I want to see what it looks like,” she said.
    â€œYou’ll need to clean up a little,” Grandma added as Mom crossed the kitchen and headed down the stairs. Mom didn’t wait for Grandma to say any more.
    Murphy ate the last spoonful of soup and buttered another piece of fried bread. It was better that Mom looked at the basement apartment alone. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to look the way she had described it to him. So he waited until he was completely finished his supper before