The Boney Hand

by Karen Kane

  “I don’t think,” signed Frog, “that the camera can see all the way in the back of the church. At least, I hope it can’t.” She turned to Wendell. “We’ll have to leave the hand somewhere else so you aren’t caught on camera.”

  “No.” Wendell shook his head. “I have to return the hand back to where I took it from. I have to be respectful to the memory of Boney Jack!”

  Wendell had a stubborn look upon his face, not unlike the one Frog often had.

  “I’m going to put it back,” Wendell told them as Oliver interpreted. “Boney Jack walked the plank for his good deeds. This is my plank.”

  Wendell squared his narrow shoulders and stepped forward. Frog yanked him back into the vestibule. Wendell almost dropped the Boney Hand. Charlie and Oliver both stifled screams as Wendell caught it just in time.

  Frog hadn’t noticed. She was staring up at the camera.

  “I have a better idea,” signed Frog.

  Frog made the letter I. She touched her pinky finger to the side of her forehead, palm facing inward. Then she drew her pinky finger forward. Idea.

  “Look at your watch,” Frog told Charlie. “How much time is between the light flashes?”

  Charlie held up his watch with the screen illuminated. When the red light blinked, Charlie started counting seconds. When it blinked again, Charlie stopped.

  “Ten seconds,” signed Charlie.

  “That means we have ten seconds between camera shots,” signed Frog, “to make it look like the Boney Hand crawled up the church aisle and onto the pillow. If the camera has already seen us, then it’s too late. But if it hasn’t, we have a chance.”

  When it dawned on Wendell what Frog wanted to do, his eyes brightened behind his round glasses.

  Charlie looked down the long church aisle, where the pedestal stood. Someone would have to run up and down the aisle, placing the Boney Hand in position every ten seconds without getting caught on camera.

  “So,” Frog asked, “who’s the fastest?”

  “Not me,” signed Oliver. “I’m strong, not fast.”

  But Frog was looking at Charlie.

  Charlie, who was on the track team.

  Charlie, who had been practicing running fast.

  “It’s me,” signed Charlie. “I’m the fastest. I’ll do it.”

  “But,” said Oliver, “if you don’t time the camera right, you’ll be caught. Then everyone will really think you’re the thief!” Oliver signed what he had just said for Frog and Wendell.

  “It’ll work,” signed Charlie. He didn’t know if it really would—but he had to try.

  Wendell placed the Boney Hand down on the jacket and took off his gloves. Charlie removed his shoes so he wouldn’t leave muddy footprints on the church floor. He took off his watch and handed it to Frog. Then he put on Wendell’s gloves.

  He hesitated.

  “We don’t know if gloves will protect you,” Frog warned. “Are you sure?”

  Charlie looked at Wendell, who had been brave enough to protect the Boney Hand from Rupert in the first place.

  Charlie nodded. He was sure.

  Charlie reached down and lifted up the hand.

  Frog and Oliver both shuddered again.

  Charlie held it away from his body and tried not to look at it.

  They all watched the red light flash. Heart thudding, Charlie placed the Boney Hand in the aisle a few feet inside the church. He dashed back to the entrance hall. The light flashed again. He took another ten seconds to calm his heart rate.

  The light blinked. Charlie picked up the Boney Hand and moved it a few feet forward. He darted back.

  Ten more seconds.

  Charlie moved the Boney Hand farther and farther up the aisle, each time barreling back to the entrance before the next picture snapped. The closer the Boney Hand moved toward the pedestal, the quicker Charlie had to run. He was breathing hard now.

  “Couldn’t Charlie just duck down between the pews?” Oliver asked Frog.

  “The camera is so high up,” signed Frog, “that it still might see Charlie.”

  The camera flashed again.

  “Hurry,” signed Frog.

  Charlie sprinted as fast as he could, picked up the Boney Hand, placed it right in front of the pedestal, and sprinted back, almost tripping over his feet. He made it back just before the light blinked again.

  Heart hammering, Charlie put his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. But there was no time to think. He had to run—soon—and fast! He had to pick up the Boney Hand, put it on the pillow on the pedestal, and tear back down the aisle before the camera blinked again.

  Without tripping.

  Without dropping the Boney Hand.

  Coach Crawford said to visualize yourself going through the race. Charlie pictured himself running with great, long strides. He saw himself picking up the Boney Hand and placing it on the pillow. He imagined himself turning around easily and then taking great, long strides back.

  He waited for the light.

  It blinked.

  Nope, he wasn’t ready.

  Charlie got into his runner’s stance, like he would for a track meet.

  The light blinked.

  Nope. Still not ready.

  Frog, Oliver, and Wendell all patted him on his back.

  This time Charlie was ready.

  The light blinked.

  Go!

  Charlie ran harder than he had ever run before. He scooped up the Boney Hand in one smooth, fluid movement. He put it on the pillow and spun around in the same breath.

  Oliver and Wendell looked terrified as Frog frantically pointed at his watch. All of them were waving their arms at him, begging him to move faster.

  Charlie careened down the aisle. He took great leaping strides as he watched Frog’s fingers count down.

  Three.

  Charlie pumped his arms.

  Two.

  Charlie was flying.

  One.

  Charlie dove through the air right into the arms of Frog, Oliver, and Wendell.

  The camera light blinked.

  Charlie had made it.

  By the time Charlie rode the gondola back to the village, it had stopped raining. Grandma and Grandpa Tickler were at the kitchen table with Yvette when Charlie walked through the door, ready to play their favorite card game, Kings Corners.

  “Charlie! We’re so glad you’re home!” said Grandma.

  “Ayuh,” said Grandpa.

  “So am I,” said Yvette. “Because now I don’t have to play.”

  “You have to play, Yvette!” said Grandma. “It’s more fun with more players.”

  As Yvette dealt cards (seven cards to each player, the right number), Grandma Tickler asked, “How’s our first case coming along? The Mystery of the Disappearing Boney Hand?”

  Charlie picked up his cards. He had two high cards, a king and queen.

  “We solved it,” said Charlie. “We know who stole the Boney Hand.”

  “You do?” said Grandma. “Well, how about that!”

  Charlie figured it was safe to tell his grandparents some of what happened as they didn’t know much ASL and had only been to the castle once. They were unlikely to tell anyone at CSD the real story. So he told them how Frog had figured out that Charlie was being sent a message. How he and Frog had sent a message in return. And how the thief turned out to be a boy who simply wanted to protect the Boney Hand from a bully.

  “So he was doing something good!” said Grandma. “Something good that looked bad.”

  “Ayuh!” said Grandpa.

  “That’s right, Irving,” said Grandma. “You can’t always know if someone is good or bad just by what you see. We learned that with Walter Simple, didn’t we?”

  They played two more hands of cards before Grandma looked at the kitchen clock. “Irving, Vince Vinelli Special Edition! is starting! Charlie, I’m glad you and Frog solved the case. But don’t forget—the Mystery of the Missing Remote Control, the Mystery of the F
rozen Underwear, and the Mystery of the Stolen Black Jelly Beans are still unsolved!”

  Grandpa patted Charlie’s head and shuffled into the living room behind Grandma.

  Charlie started to get up, too.

  “Hold on,” said Yvette. She picked up the cards on the table. “What’s going to happen to that boy?” she asked as she cut the deck of cards with one hand. “Is he going to be in trouble?”

  “If I tell you,” said Charlie, “you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever.”

  “Promise,” said Yvette. She was shuffling cards, so her fingers were not crossed.

  Charlie told Yvette about Mr. Willoughby and the camera, and how Charlie had moved the Boney Hand so that it looked like it crawled down the church aisle on its own.

  “But we don’t know if it worked,” said Charlie. “I could’ve been caught on camera.”

  “And if you were caught on camera, people will think you had something to do with stealing the hand, since you were the one returning it,” said Yvette.

  Charlie nodded.

  “You could have just turned Wendell in and cleared your name,” added Yvette.

  Charlie nodded again.

  Yvette leaned back in her chair and gave Charlie a long, considering look.

  “It takes a special kind of strength,” said Yvette, “to not let what other people might think keep you from doing the right thing. I’m proud of you, Charlie Tickler.”

  Charlie ducked his head. In his mind’s eye he signed “proud” by making a thumbs-down and then sliding his thumb up his chest. Proud.

  “Thanks,” he said. “You should be proud of Frog, too,” added Charlie. “She wanted to prove to everyone she was a real detective, especially after what Vince Vinelli said. But she won’t tell anyone she solved this case, because of Wendell.”

  “That’s real strength,” said Yvette. “Strength of character.”

  “I told Frog we’d make sure everyone knows about the next mystery we solve—if I’m not expelled,” said Charlie.

  Yvette cut the deck of cards with one hand. “How do you do that?” Charlie asked Yvette.

  “Lots of practice,” said Yvette. “Here, I’ll show you.”

  She slowed down what she was doing so Charlie could see how her fingers held some of the cards while moving the other half of the cards. Then she gave the deck to Charlie. He tried to cut the cards with one hand. They scattered all over the table.

  “Keep trying,” said Yvette as she collected the cards and handed them back to Charlie. “That’s the only way to get good at something.”

  Charlie tried to cut the cards with one hand. Once again, he failed. Yvette gathered them up.

  “Frog already knows what she wants to be good at,” said Charlie. “That’s why she’s doing detective work now. Oliver already knows, too. That’s why he bakes all the time. But I have no idea what I want to do when I grow up.”

  “You don’t have to know right now,” said Yvette. She laid the cards in a long line and flipped them over as one. Then she scooped them up and handed them back to Charlie. “Plenty of people don’t know what makes them happy until they’re already all grown up and living their lives. You’ve got lots of time to figure it out.”

  Charlie felt relieved that he didn’t have to know right now. In the meantime, he had lots of stuff he wanted to do—like learn more ASL, run faster, and cut a deck of cards one-handed like Yvette. Charlie tried once more. The cards slipped, but they didn’t fall. He caught them with his other hand and tried again.

  “Your grandparents just now found something that makes them happy,” said Yvette as she watched Charlie practice. “Solving crime. Wonder when they’re going to solve their three cases,” she said, giving him a sideways look.

  “Yvette!” said Charlie. “You didn’t!”

  Yvette went over to a kitchen cabinet and opened it. She pulled out the remote control from behind the flour canister, along with a jar of black jelly beans.

  “Oh, yes I did,” said Yvette. She tucked the remote control and jelly beans back behind the flour. “I knew your grandparents weren’t going to be much help to you finding the Boney Hand. They needed some mysteries of their own to solve. The missing remote control gets them out of their chairs when they’re watching TV. When I was folding laundry, I decided to toss a pair of Irving’s briefs in the freezer, just to see if they noticed. And Irving needs to eat more than one color of jelly beans!”

  “But you told them you didn’t do it!” said Charlie. “Each time they asked you, you said it wasn’t you!”

  “I never said that,” said Yvette. “I said, ‘Why would I take the remote control?’ ‘Why would I freeze Irving’s underwear?’ ‘Why would I take black jelly beans?’ I answered a question with a question. Then I distracted them.”

  “Smart,” said Charlie.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” said Yvette as she shuffled cards. “We’ll give your grandparents a few more days of investigating, then let’s figure out a way for them to solve these cases.”

  Charlie wondered if today would be his last day at Castle School for the Deaf.

  The day seemed perfect—the sky was so blue, the autumn leaves so vivid, the houses so colorful—that it made what Charlie was feeling inside that much worse. He could, of course, continue to live with his grandparents and go to the local school, but it wouldn’t be the same.

  As Charlie lined up for the gondola, he realized everyone was talking about one subject: the Boney Hand. Bits and pieces of conversations floated all around him, in ASL and in English.

  “I heard they found it!”

  “I heard that, too!”

  “Who took it?”

  “No idea!”

  “Did it come back on its own? That’s what someone told me.”

  “This village and castle aren’t normal—that’s what I love about them—anything can happen here!”

  The gondola returned to the village side of the river. Mr. Simple came out of the control station to load passengers and collect a dollar from each rider.

  “I didn’t steal the Boney Hand,” said Mr. Simple as Charlie handed him his fare.

  “I know,” said Charlie.

  “The rumor is it’s back,” said Mr. Simple. “Who brought it back?”

  “We’ll find out, I guess,” said Charlie, feeling sick to his stomach.

  “If it came back on its own,” said Mr. Simple, “it didn’t ride in my gondola.” He turned to the next passenger to collect a dollar, and then added, “I wouldn’t put up with a bony hand riding my gondola for free.”

  • • •

  The Flying Hands Café was packed. Frog was rushing around taking and serving orders. Mrs. Castle was seating customers. Every few minutes, she checked her phone. Charlie slipped into the café when Mrs. Castle’s back was turned. He went over to Frog’s section.

  Frog was taking an order for eggs from a man who was obviously new to ASL. He slowly made the letter H with both hands, putting one H on top of the other one. Then he broke them apart like an egg cracking open. Egg.

  Frog gave him a thumbs-up and wrote down the order. She spotted Charlie. Pulling him aside, she quickly scribbled on her notepad, her thick jeweled bracelet sliding down her arm.

  Willoughby found the Boney Hand in the church early this morning, wrote Frog. Now he’s watching the camera recording. Mom is waiting to hear from him. Mom, Dad, and Grandpa were NOT happy about the camera.

  Charlie felt queasy. He must have looked it, too, because Frog pulled him over to a family’s table. There was one extra chair. She pushed Charlie into it. The family looked surprised, but they were obviously hearing and didn’t know how to sign “What are you doing?” They shrugged and went back to their pancakes.

  Don’t worry, wrote Frog. It’ll be fine. I’ll bring you some breakfast. No charge.

  Frog had never offered Charlie free food before. She must not have a good feeling about this. She must think last night didn’t work. That Mr. Willoughby wa
s going to see Charlie on the camera.

  Charlie watched the family he was sitting with trying to communicate by fingerspelling.

  Mother: EAT!

  Little girl: NO!

  Father (pointing to his pancakes): GOOD!

  Frog brought Charlie eggs and banana bread. The banana bread is from Oliver, wrote Frog. You get the first taste!

  Charlie looked over and saw Oliver give him a wave and a thumbs-up from the kitchen.

  He didn’t like everyone being so nice to him. He didn’t like it at all. It meant they were sure Charlie was going to get caught. Well, what if he did? He would just say he hadn’t stolen the hand, and he wouldn’t say who did.

  But then Mr. Willoughby would ask, “Why were you returning it? What’s in it for you?”

  And what was Charlie supposed to say? “I was trying to do something good”?

  Mr. Willoughby would not believe him.

  No one would believe him.

  The banana bread looked delicious, but Charlie couldn’t eat it.

  He saw Mrs. Castle look at her phone and put her hand on her chest.

  This was it.

  Mrs. Castle signed something to the woman next to her and then hurried out of the café.

  Frog was at Charlie’s side in an instant.

  “Let’s go,” she signed.

  • • •

  Mrs. Castle must have texted Grandpa Sol because he was with her as they walked to the graveyard. Charlie and Frog waited a moment so they would not be seen, and then followed.

  When they arrived at the cemetery entrance, they found Mr. Castle sitting on a stool by the wooden door, reading. Boris was leaning against the stone wall watching something on his phone.

  “Sorry, Frog. Sorry, Charlie,” Mr. Castle signed as Boris interpreted. “I have strict orders not to let anyone in. I’ve been turning away students and visitors.”

  “Dad! Please!” Frog begged.

  Mr. Castle shook his head.

  “Then at least tell us what you know!” signed Frog.

  “I know nothing more than you do,” he signed. “I’m usually the last to know, anyway, so I just wait for the facts to come in.”

  Frog looked at Boris.

  Boris shrugged.