Chapter 1 New Friends
Tommy McArthur and his little brother Billy would usually spend a month at his grandparents’ place each summer. Grandma and Grandpa Gustafson allowed them to bring their pet dog, Noodle, along. Grandma said a Dachshund wasn’t much trouble and that was true for Noodle who hardly ever, ever barked. Billy and Tommy, on the other hand, could be big trouble. They didn’t usually play together at home since they were more than four years apart, but at Grandma and Grandpa’s they didn’t have anyone else to play with so they tended to do everything together. Of course that led to trouble, which led to fights, which led to yelling and, for Billy, crying. This year, though, Grandpa Gustafson had promised to take each boy camping alone for a week if they could promise to behave.
It was the first Saturday in July when they arrived at the big old steep roofed house that Grandpa Gustafson’s father had built sixty or seventy years ago. Maffett Street was a beautiful tree-lined street where most of the houses were white, two-story homes with front porches and detached garages out back. There was an alley that ran behind the houses where the garbage cans sat and you could pull your car into your garage from the back and drive right on through if you wanted to.
Along side of the garage Grandma had planted a patch of tomatoes and beans and cucumbers. The earth smelled wonderful there and Tommy liked to sit in one of the big white wooden chairs, there were two of them, and watch her weed the garden. He wasn’t afraid that she’d ask him to help. She had asked for his assistance when he was Billy’s age and he had pulled up half of the vegetables instead of the weeds before Grandma noticed. She just laughed, though, and replanted them, but she never asked him to help again.
Now, while their mom and dad were putting their bicycles in the garage, Tommy and his brother were lugging their suitcases up the front steps and into the tiny foyer. Their rooms were straight up the stairs and Tommy didn’t hesitate. He always claimed the larger room, first come first served, he’d tell Billy. His room, on the right, had another door behind a drape that let you walk right into the attic. The treasures there were fascinating, but it got so hot in that space that he had to remember to explore first thing in the morning before the sun did its work. Billy hadn’t discovered the attic yet and Tommy wasn’t about to tip him off.
The room on the left was Billy’s and he would complain that he always got the smaller room, but really he didn’t mind. He thought that this room was special. The laundry chute was in his closet and he could shout down to Grandma in the kitchen or Grandpa way down in the basement where his workshop was. Grandma’s laundry room was down there, too, as well as what the boys considered a playroom. It was a room of extra furniture and keepsakes, books, games, and toys.
The boys settled in quickly and joined their parents and grandparents in the kitchen for a large luncheon and about an hour of conversation before their parents left.
“Mind your grandma and grandpa, boys,” their mother said as usual, “and remember not to run past the big clock in the living room.” She always said that whenever they visited as if they needed even another reminder.
Tommy waved goodbye until their car was out of sight then asked for permission to walk to the drug store. It was only three blocks away and no busy streets to cross. He was allowed to go alone, but he usually had to drag Billy along. If he were lucky Billy would already be into the toys in the basement and not want to go.
He got his wish when he went inside to get his money. He could actually hear Billy rummaging through the stuff in the playroom. He darted up the stairs and got the first of several five-dollar bills he had brought. He planned to spend the money on candy. Grandma thought he would buy books. Even comic books, she said, were good purchases. She encouraged him to read a lot and he did, probably more than any of his friends back home who were undoubtedly spending the summer practicing and playing soccer. Tommy loved soccer and played on a spring team and an indoor winter team, but his parents declared that summer was for reading, relaxing, and resting, the three r’s, and besides he would miss too many games the month he spent at his grandparents’. Oh, well, what grandma didn’t know was there was a stash of comic books and old classics in the attic that had been his mother’s. He would buy candy at the drug store and get a book from the attic to read on the back porch. This was his plan and it seemed to be the best use of his allowance, at least it seemed that way to him.
He put the bill in his pocket and pushed aside the drape that hid the attic door. A wall of hot air greeted him as he entered. He could hardly breathe the dry heat. It seemed to cover him from head to toe like a suffocating wool blanket. He rushed to the old train trunk and opened it. He had restacked the books last summer so the ones he hadn’t read would be on top. He grabbed the top two, a book and a comic book, closed the trunk and hurried out, careful to close the door quietly.
The stairway in this old house was narrower and steeper than most and he had taught Billy to slide down the treads on his rump. Tommy could do it so expertly that Billy had taken to calling him “waxy butt” or “ski rump”. Tommy sat on the top step and began the bumpity ride. He was half way down when he stopped, deciding that he had finally outgrown this little trick. He took the last six steps two at a time and raced through the living room, slowing down a little as he passed the big old grandfather clock, then he cut through the dining room, went into the kitchen, and out the back door onto the porch. He hid the books under the metal lounge chair in the corner of the screened-in porch then burst out the screen door.
“Be careful crossing the street,” his grandmother hollered from the garden. He could see his grandfather tinkering with something in the garage while Noodle sniffed around the corners and he waved before turning down the driveway and out to the sidewalk.
Too bad there aren’t any kids on this block, he mused. He noticed a for sale sign on the house across the street. It would be nice if a boy his age moved in there by next summer. Suddenly he tripped on a couple of large stones in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked down and saw chalk marks, the beginnings of that stupid hopscotch game that girls played. He wasn’t interested in playing with girls, though he did glance up at the house next door. The large front porch had two bikes sitting side by side on it. There was a small doll carriage, too. Oh, no, girls. He vaguely remembered meeting some little girls who were visiting there years and years ago. He looked away and concentrated on checking each and every house he passed for signs of male inhabitants.
He crossed the street and turned the corner. He reached the corner drugstore in no time and pushed through the heavy glass door. The candy aisle was two aisles over and he made a beeline straight for the candy bars. This would take a bit of thought; he might even spend ten or fifteen minutes contemplating just the right combination of flavors. First he picked out a few of the large chocolate bars, then some tart candies, followed by licorice and gum. He did the arithmetic in his head and knew he had just enough left for one more thing: bribe candy. He always kept a box of something that Billy liked so he could dole out one candy at a time to get Billy to do things for him, like get out of his room, like not tell on him, like do him a favor. Sometimes, though, he had to resort to threatening Billy with a little pounding on the arm. Tommy suspected that fighting was going to be more common as they got older. He had noticed how his dad and his uncles still threw a few punches at each other. Playfully, they said. Anyway, Tommy would start with bribe candy for now; he didn’t think his Grandma appreciated any roughhousing.
He paid for his purchases and left the drug store with a weighty bag of sugary delights. He leaned against the side of the building and peered into the bag. What to start with? He opened the box of sweet and tart candies and popped a purple one into his mouth. He listened to the sounds of summer: birds, traffic, a plane up above, and, somewhere, the sound of kids laughing. Probably little kids, he thought, or girls.
He headed back to his grandparents’ house, but stopped as he rounded the last corner and saw his little brother
playing in the neighbors’ yard. Billy had short brown hair in a crew cut just like Tommy, but not now – he was wearing a curly red wig and had an apron tied around his waist. He was leaning over a doll’s baby carriage and pushing down on something. A little girl about the same size as Billy was standing on the other side of the carriage with her hands busy working on whatever was in the carriage. They laughed again and Tommy recognized it as the sound he had heard a block away. What was his little brother doing? He was acting like a girl. This had to stop and it had to stop right now.
Tommy marched purposefully up to the yard and stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips, candy bag dangling down. “Billy,” he startled them, “what are you doing?”
“Hi, Tommy, look,” Billy lifted his hands and up jumped a large black cat from the carriage. The little girl grabbed at it and pushed it back down. The poor thing was wearing a baby bonnet and a diaper and was meowing frantically. “We’re playing house,” Billy announced. “This is Tracy, she’s nine, and her sister, Noelle, is your age.” Billy jerked his head toward the front porch indicating a pretty blonde girl who was sitting on the floor of the porch between the bikes.
Tommy was momentarily stunned. He wasn’t shy around girls, he had lots of friends at school that were girls, but he just wasn’t aware that she was sitting there watching him. It took him a moment to change from the accusing older brother act to a friendlier greeting.
“Hi,” Tommy said.
Both sisters answered at the same time.
Tommy changed his tone and asked his question again as Noelle came down from the porch. “What’cha doin’?”
Billy was quick to explain how Tracy would use her cat as a real baby and once they got it calmed down they could push the stroller up and down the sidewalk.
“What’s with the wig?” Tommy asked.
“Oh!” Billy tore it off his head and handed it back to Tracy. “It’s hers. We … er … I was just keeping it out of the way while she fixed the cat. His name is Boots.”
“He’s almost bigger than Noodle, but that probably won’t stop Noodle from chasing him,” Tommy said.
Billy answered, “He did. Noodle did chase Boots. I put him in the back porch, though, and then I helped Tracy get Boots out of the tree.”
Noelle joined them and asked Tommy if he wanted to go bike riding with her. Why not? he thought.
“I’ll just put this in my room,” he said, indicating the bag of candy. She nodded and Tommy took off at a run for the back of the house. Grandma was still in the garden and he told her his plans then he went in through the back porch and was greeted by a very slobbery Noodle and the sound of the big clock in the living room. It was just chiming the first of the four notes it always rang on the quarter hour. Tommy was going to leave his bag under the chair with the books, but Noodle would sniff it out in a microsecond. Better hide it up high in his bedroom closet. First he fished out the gum and put two packs in his pocket. Then he headed toward the kitchen. In his hurry he raced through the old house not bothering to slow down as he passed the large old grandfather clock. His left foot landed hard right in front of the old timepiece and the door to the pendulum box swung out. Tommy had a sudden fear that the whole thing was going to topple over on him and he dropped the bag of candy and reached for the door to push it back closed again. He must have slammed it too hard because the clock wobbled and rang once more, then the pendulum ticked when it should have tocked and Tommy slipped through a hole in the floor and landed with a thud in the basement.