Rebel's Tag Read Free Page B

urge.
    â€œThat’s what I’m doing,” she says. “Just give me a minute.” She starts tapping onthe wood with her knuckles. She knocks on the ends, then the sides and finally, the bottom. “There,” she says.
    â€œWhere?” I ask.
    â€œIt’s in the bottom. You hear how hollow it sounds?” She knocks on the bottom again.
    â€œOkay, so why don’t you open it?” I really want to see what’s in that secret compartment. No way would Grandpa Max just give me a cradle. Whatever he wanted to give me must be hidden in there. It could even be a ruby ring, like Indi said.
    Mom is muttering. “There’s some trick to it. Look at the wood. It’s all smooth. There’s no handle or anything. Your dad showed me how it works, but I can’t remember. I think we have to press somewhere.”
    â€œWe could break it open,” I say.
    â€œSamuel Connor! We cannot break it. How could you say such a thing?”
    â€œJust kidding,” I mutter. I wasn’t really kidding, but I can see it was one ofthose things I shouldn’t have said out loud. “Maybe you have to turn it upside down?”
    â€œHmm. Yes, I think that’s it.” She carefully turns the cradle over and runs her hands over the bottom. When she presses on a spot at the side, there’s a soft click and then a section of wood slides to one side.
    â€œLook!” she squeals. Like I might have missed it.
    â€œSo what’s inside?” I ask.
    â€œWell, it used to have locks of hair,” Mom says. “A snip of curl from every baby who ever slept here.”
    â€œNasty! What’s the point of that? Collecting DNA for cloning?”
    â€œOh, for heaven’s sake, Sam.” Mom slips her hand into the hole and feels around. Sure enough, she pulls out a Baggie holding a hunk of hair. It has a label,
Samuel Connor
. Disgusting. Then she pulls out a few more Baggies. And finally, an envelope. It also has my name written on it.
    â€œFor you,” Mom says.
    Wow. Another freakin’ letter.
    Dear Samuel,
    Do you like the cradle? Bet you think it’s an odd gift, but as the first Connor child of your generation, it belongs to you. I was sorting through some things and came across it. Way back when you were around two, you and your folks had to live in a small place for a few months. Your mom asked me to store it for a while, and I forgot to bring it back.
    Joe sure makes good burgers, doesn’t he? I’m real glad you went and met him. Maybe we’ll go down there together sometime? But first, I want to give you something else. I think you’ll like this next gift, and hope you don’t mind another short trip to pick it up.
    Please go to the Dr. Sun Yat Sen Classical Chinese Garden in Vancouver on a Sunday morning. You’ll find an elderly man by the ponds, watching the turtles. He’ll be wearing glasses and aplaid cap. His name is Henry Chan, and he’s expecting you.
    One more thing about the cradle. There’s a proverb from ancient Sumer, the place some call the cradle of civilization. It goes like this:
What comes out from the heart of the tree is known by the heart of the tree.
    Your Grandpa Max
    I stuff the letter into the pocket of my jeans and go to phone Indi. Mom calls after me, but I ignore her. When Indi answers, I just say, “I’m going tonight, with or without you. I have to.”
    There’s a short silence, and then she says, “Fine. I’ll meet you at midnight.”

chapter six
    The first time Indi and I took a roof, we were eleven years old. We were out playing hide-and-seek one summer evening, and I found a ladder leaning against a neighbor’s house. It was too easy. And too perfect. None of the other kids could find us, and we ended up staying on the roof until dark. We got in trouble for staying out so late, and I think that’s when Mr. Bains stopped liking me, but it was worth it. Wesat