The Fantastic Secret of Owen Jester Read Free Page A

nodded toward the baling wire. “And staples would work better than that wire.”
    “Staples are for paper, you ninny,” Travis said.
    “Yeah,” Stumpy said. “Staples are for paper, you ninny.”
    But Owen stayed quiet. He was trying to keep his irritation from getting the best of him and turning him into a foot-stomping baby.
    But it was hard.
    Because he knew Viola was right about the staples.And he knew she didn’t mean staples like the little ones for paper. She meant those heavy-duty kind like his father used to staple plastic over the windows in the winter at their old house on Tupelo Road.
    “I know where there’s a staple gun,” Viola said, grabbing her canteen off the hay bale.
    She turned to Owen and looked smug.
    Owen hated it when Viola looked smug.
    More than anything, he wanted to say “Where?”
    But he knew that Viola wanted him to say “Where?”
    Which was why she was looking so smug.
    So instead of saying “Where?” Owen said, “Rocket.”
    Rocket
was the secret code word that he and Travis and Stumpy had made up to ditch Viola. They had agreed that if one of them said “Rocket,” they would all run as fast as they could to their hiding place down by the train tracks.
    So that’s what they did.
    They ran as fast as they could out of the barn, across the yard, down the path, through the woods, and around the pond. They crossed to the other side of the tracks, pushed their way through the scrubby bushes, and crawled up under the branches of an enormous rottenoak tree that had fallen years ago and landed against a pine tree, forming a perfect tepee.
    The boys were gasping and laughing and high-fiving each other when Pete and Leroy came sniffing through the brush, tails wagging, noses sniffing.
    “Uh-oh,” Owen said. “I hope Viola didn’t follow them.”
    Owen crawled out of the tree tepee and looked around.
    No sign of Viola.
    Good, he thought.
    Then the time had come.
    He was going to tell Travis and Stumpy about the thing that had fallen off the train.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The boys looked all afternoon. They combed the woods. They tromped through pricker bushes. They waded along the edges of the pond, their feet sinking in the gooey mud.
    They found a plastic milk crate with the bottom broken out.
    They found a coffee can full of mud.
    They found a piece of PVC pipe with PROPERTY OF MONROE COUNTY stamped on the side.
    And they found an old metal thing with a rusty bolt sticking out of it.
    But none of those things seemed like something that would have fallen off the train and made the noise that Owen heard.
    The thud.
    The crack of wood.
    The tumble, tumble, tumble sound.
    “Are you sure the noise came from around here?” Travis said, tossing a handful of rocks into the pond.
    “Sure, I’m sure,” Owen said.
    “I mean, maybe it was farther up that way.” Travis nodded up the tracks. “Maybe it wasn’t near the pond.”
    Owen shrugged. “Maybe.”
    “Then you know what that means,” Stumpy said.
    Owen and Travis looked at Stumpy and waited.
    “That means it could be up yonder behind Viola’s house.” Stumpy set his mouth in a hard line and drew his eyebrows together.
    A deep, dead, gloomy silence fell over them.
    They stared at their shoes, their hands shoved in their pockets.
    Suddenly Owen’s head shot up and he snapped his fingers. “Allergies!” he hollered, grinning.
    Travis and Stumpy stared at Owen.
    “Viola never goes back that far,” Owen said. “There’s weeds and stuff back there. She hates that. She sneezes and gets sick and all.” He shook his head. “Naw, Viola won’t be nosing around here.”
    Owen looked up the tracks. He knew every inch ofthem, how they curved slightly just beyond the pond, then continued on through the fields way in the back of Viola’s house. After that they went over the main highway, out of Carter and into Fort Valley.
    Out of Fort Valley and into Byron.
    Out of Byron and into Macon.
    And on and on, clear on through the state of