The Tunnel of Hugsy Goode Read Free Page B

chip.
    "Hooray! We're on our way!" I said to Tornid.
    Tornid beamed. He has great gray eyes, always shining. Sometimes, Tornid wishes he was eleven or that I was eight. Most of the time we don't think of the age gap, we have so much to do.
    We felt far, far away from the folks above. We felt we had already penetrated the secret of the tunnel and had left the lilac-scented air of the upper Alley for we knew not what sort of air in the under one.
    Happily, we chipped another chip. Some flew against my eyeglasses. Lucky I wear nonshatterable eyeglasses. That's one good thing about my mom, she always buys the best possible eyeglasses ... and lamps.
    Just then, the sound of many voices ... up above, not down below.
    "Lay low," I said to Tornid.
    We both lay low and listened.
    What it sounded like, it sounded like the entire Alley population streaming into the Fabian yard. I got the gist right away. LLIB and Lucy, top performers in the tree house, were about to put on another circus. Perhaps some of the Contamination girls were also going to do an act. And we, trapped in the hidey hole at the point marked TRATS!
    When the show started, it began with a performance, solo, by LLIB. He is known by some as the boy belly dancer because he has a certain knack. He can make his belly go round and round ... revolve ... clockwise and counterclockwise. No one else in his family can do this. Even though Tornid has a larger belly, he can't do this. So, now, LLIB revolved his belly.
    After that solo, we could tell from the sound, the next act was LLIB and Lucy impersonating Tornid's and my mom. They gave a very good imitation of the sounds the moms make while sitting at the picnic table. We hoped that would be all and the audience would leave. But it wasn't. Contamination Blue-Eyes gave her magic tricks, and this took a long time because sometimes she had to look one up in her book and do it over.
    Our two moms were sitting very close to the hidey hole. They had balanced their coffee cups ... we could see through the vines ... on a huge pipe, covered with a flat slab. Must be about sixteen inches in diameter and may have some meaning in connection with the under alley ... we don't know yet.
    It was pretty hot down here in our hidey hole. Tornid and me sure were glad when they got to the last performance. It was Danny, and he doesn't care much about performing ... he told a joke. "Who is the father of all corn?" he asked. And in a second he answered himself. "POP corn."
    And that ended the circus. Applauding loudly, everybody left ... no lemonade and cookies, at least. So we picked up our chisels and chipped off another chip. The bricks were old and soft. "It shouldn't take very long to get through," I said to Tornid.
    "I know..." he said.
    Just then ... I knew it ... the cow horn ... plus a bellow of my name..."Nick!"
    We had to go in.
    "Anyway," I said, "tomorrow is Saturday. Most people sleep late. But we can get up early and begin and..."
    "And?" asked Tornid.
    "
¿Quién sabe?
" I said ... an expression I had learned in Mexico one year we spent there.
    "
¿Quién sabe?
" Tornid repeated. We covered our tools with a big green plastic bag, in case of rain, and went home to dinner.

Chapter 4
The Glooms
    Next morning Tornid and me were sitting under Jane Ives's rose of Sharon tree. It was Saturday, about ten o'clock. By this time we had expected to have gotten through the hidey hole wall. Instead, here we sit under the tree looking up through its new green leaves to the blue sky above. Why?
    Two letters came to my house in the mail this morning. Both were about me. No wonder I have the glooms. One was from the Commodore—he lives in the end house on Story Street, one of the four houses where the Circle used to be. The Commodore is in charge of all the grounds of the campus including the Alley and its twenty-seven houses. Although he mentioned only Tornid and me by name, he said his letter was for the whole family and that he was also