Revenge of the Manitou Read Free Page A

up,”
insisted his teacher. “I didn’t hear you.”
    “It was Petra’s
dreams. Petra’s been having bad dreams, and so have I.”
    Mrs. Novato
blinked at him. “Bad dreams? What kind of bad dreams?”
    “I’ve been
dreaming about a man stuck in my wardrobe calling for help, and Petra’s been
having dreams about people covered with blood.”
    Mrs. Novato
walked slowly down the aisle toward them. She looked first at Toby and then at
Petra. On the blackboard behind her was the chalked message: “Trees in the
Petrified Forest were turned to stone by minerals.’“
    Mrs. Novato
said, “Have you told your parents about these dreams?”
    The children
nodded.
    “Yes, Mrs.
Novato.”
    Mrs. Novato
smiled. “In that case, I’m sure you’re both going to be fine. Maybe a little
less cheese at bedtime, and those dreams are sure to
disappear. Now, forget about what goes on in dreams and let’s have your
attention on something that’s real. The trees in the
Petrified Forest.”
    Toby sat down
again. Petra, annoyed at having been scolded by Mrs. Novato, pinched him hard
on the leg.
    During lunch
recess, in the hot, dusty school yard with its chain-link fence, Toby sat on a
split-log bench and ate his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. Today, despite
Ben Nichelini’s entreaties to trade a sandwich for a
live lizard on a piece of string, he felt hungry, and he ate everything his
mother had prepared for him. He carefully saved his Baby Ruth bar until last.
    Andy Beaver,
who was the envy of the class because his uncle had taken him to see Star Wars,
was doing a passable imitation of R-2 D-2, while Karen Doughty was breathing in
and out very loudly and panting: “I’m Darth Vader! I’m Darth Vader!”
    Daniel Soscol , one of the youngest boys in the class, came across
the school yard and sat down next to Toby, watching him eat with silent
interest. Daniel wasn’t very popular because he was so young and so quiet. He
had thin arms and legs, and big dark eyes. His father was a plumber in Valley
Ford, and his mother had died in May. Toby continued to eat. When he had
finished, he took out the square of kitchen towel that his mother had neatly
folded under his sandwiches, and wiped his mouth.
    Daniel said, “I
heard you say about the dreams.”
    Toby looked up.
“So?” he said, acting a little tough because Daniel was the class runt. He
wouldn’t have liked Andy Beaver to see him being too nice to Daniel, in case
Andy Beaver’s gang started to treat him the same way. Leaving thumbtacks on his
seat, hiding his books, things like that.
    Daniel said, “I
had bad dreams, too. Real scary ones. I dreamed I was
walking through this forest and suddenly all these things came dropping out of
the trees.”
    “What’s scary
about that?”
    “What’s scary
about somebody stuck in a wardrobe?”
    “Well, it was
scary at the time,” said Toby.
    “So was mine.”
    They sat in
silence for a moment. Toby unwrapped his Baby Ruth and
started to chew it. A coolish breeze from the west
raised dust on the yard, and in the distance a cock began to crow.
    Daniel said,
“We’re not the only ones. Ben Nichelini had a bad
dream too. He dreamed he was running and running and all these fierce people
were trying to catch him.”
    “Everybody has
dreams like that,” said Toby.
    “Well, I guess
so,” admitted Daniel. “I just think it’s funny all
these kids having bad dreams.”
    Andy Beaver, came up, burbling and warbling like R-2 D-2. Daniel
didn’t bother to stick around. When Andy was in a playful mood, it usually
meant that Daniel was going to get his hair twisted or his shorts pulled down.
Daniel said so long to Toby, and ran away across the yard and into the
classroom.
    “Have you been
talking to teacher’s pet?” asked Andy. He was blond and pugnacious, and would
probably spend most of his adult life watching baseball and drinking Old
Milwaukee.
    Toby screwed up
his eyes against the sun. “What if I have?”
    “You just