Rich Shapero Read Free Page B

could hear the dejection mixed with her
fury.
    "You're not leaving the house,"
Mom said. "Your outside time is over."
    Robbie wrenched free. "I don't
care," he said. Then he turned like Dad had and strode across the deck.
    Dad was on the sofa, thumbing a notebook,
his daypack beside him.
    "Dad— I climbed the Hill."
    "Congratulations." Dad put the
notebook down, glancing at the back door. When Robbie reached his knee, Dad
roughed his hair and kissed his temple.
    "Guess what I saw."
    Dad's dark eyes glinted, entering for a
moment the spirit of the adventure. "What?"
    "There's a stream with a voice, and a
place where—"
    "You've lost a shoe," Dad
laughed.
    Robbie looked down. The sight of his muddy
sock made him giggle. "Do you have to go back?"
    "I think I'm done for the day."
Dad eyed the back door again.
    "It was scary. This mist came
and—"
    "Robbie—"
    The doorknob was turning.
    "Why did you leave the Clearing?"
Dad asked.
    Mom entered with a much-chastened Trudy.
    "I decided to."
    "You know the rules," Dad said.
    "I was exploring."
    Mom leveled her gaze at him. "You don't go into the forest alone."
    "I wasn't—"
    Mom's eyes narrowed. "Who were you
with?"
    "No one."
    Dad moved his daypack and Mom sat beside
him.
    "You broke the rules," Dad said.
"What should we do?"
    "Nothing," Robbie said. "The
rules are stupid."
    Mom bristled, but before she could speak,
Dad lifted his hand to calm her.
    "Robbie—" Dad laughed, leaning
forward.
    Robbie saw the dark eyes regarding him.
What was Dad thinking? Sometimes you could tell—his thoughts were right there
in front of you. But sometimes it was the other way. His thoughts were distant
and his expression gave no clue. Dad's hair was black, and when stubble
shadowed his face, it was that much harder.
    "You promised," Dad said.
    "I was a little boy then. I'm six
now." Robbie smiled. "It's okay."
    "We'll decide that," Mom said.
    "Well—" Dad sighed.
    Robbie could see shadows shifting at the
back of Dad's mind.
    "Maybe it is okay," Dad
said softly.
    Mom turned scarlet.
    Robbie beamed.
    Dad took a breath. "Felicia—"
    Mom rose, shook her head, and stepped into
the kitchen.
    For a moment, Dad was lost in thought.
Robbie remained silent. The only sound was Mom, cursing and banging pans.
    Finally, Dad spoke. "You have to say
you're sorry. That's how this works."
    Robbie nodded.
    "You're the most important thing in
the world to her."
    Again Robbie nodded.
    "Go wash up. I'll come and get
you," Dad told him.
    They crossed the living room together. Dad
motioned to Trudy. She had gathered her things and was waiting by the front
door. "Don't worry," he said as Robbie started down the hall.
"We'll figure it out. Everything will be fine."
    From his room, Robbie heard only the swells
of emotion. He couldn't make out what they were saying. They were mad at each
other, of course. That didn't bother him. He found a pair of shoes and socks,
shut himself in the bathroom and switched on the fan.
    First he peed. Then he climbed up, put his
muddy foot in the sink and turned on the tap. The cold water made him shudder,
and the terrible face swam before him.
    Doubts, my boy? Shivers sneered.
    Robbie shook his head to banish the
phantom. My boy, my boy — Shivers, or the thought of him, had followed him
home.
    "I'm not your boy," Robbie
muttered, scrubbing his foot.
    He turned off the water, climbed back down
and put the fresh footwear on. Then he stood and regarded himself in the
mirror.
    It was the same face he'd looked at that
morning. More serious, maybe. Freedom had done that. His life seemed so much
larger now. He combed his hair. It was dark brown, like Fristeen's. His eyes
were blue—not a luminous sky blue, like hers. Grayish blue. When would he see
her again? There were freckles on his cheeks and his ears stuck out, but there
was nothing to be done about that. Maybe tomorrow. The first of his baby teeth
had wiggled free the week before. He smiled at the mirror and pushed his tongue
into the